


Screw Them, I Love You

by Silvergray1358



Series: Screw Them, I Love You [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Body Image, Body Worship, Deadpool Is His Knight In Shining Armor, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Drinking, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Protective Tony Stark, Self-Sacrifice, Sister Margaret's Home For Wayward Girls, Slow Burn, Spiderman Gets Hurt In A Fight Trope, Virgin Peter Parker, for a hot second - Freeform, voyeurism?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-05 09:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14614911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvergray1358/pseuds/Silvergray1358
Summary: When Peter Parker reveals his identity to Deadpool, both men struggle to work around this new dynamic. It doesn't help that the Tin Man known as Iron Man is sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong, thank you very much.Slow burn, eventual smut, chivalry, manly tears, and a little bit of hot sauce.





	1. The Beginning of a Slippery Slope

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I kinda used Spiderman: Homecoming as a jumping off point, but mainly because I really wanted Tony in here. It's mainly a combination of Homecoming and Spiderman comics. But to be honest, if you want Andrew Garfield still I'm not gonna stop you. Whatever floats your boat my friend... or, ship I guess.
> 
> Also, I feel terrible for killing Aunt May, but it had to be done #OdinForgiveMe

     He knew he was avoiding Wade. The merc with a mouth had sounded so excited yesterday when Peter had agreed to meet up the next night to "team up and kick-ass" as Wade had called it. Now, looking at his phone before tucking it away in the suit’s small pouch at his hip, he knew he had agreed to meet the older man twenty minutes ago on top of the department store two blocks west of Wade’s apartment. Surely Wade would be sitting on the concrete ledge of the roof where he always sat when he waited for the Peter-- feet swinging off the side, probably singing some Nicki Minaj song to himself… just the thought alone made Peter cringe with guilt as he swung down into an alley five blocks away.

     What was he supposed to do? He knew standing up Deadpool was a fantastic way of ruining things. This strange friendship that had taken six years to become something of a rather successful team-up (in Peter’s opinion) was fragile to say the least. Some weeks he could barely deal with the onslaught of texts that Deadpool would spam him with. Other weeks, Wade would be gone on a job. These “jobs” that he took, Peter didn’t like to ask about and Wade didn’t like to go into detail on either, but could go on for weeks or even months. Peter would just go about his life as usual; go to the university, take pictures for J. Jonah Jameson at the Daily Bugle for some cash and sooner or later he’d get a text again looking for a team-up night. Lately though, Wade had been hanging around the city, his last mission three months ago and only a quick two-day trip. That’s where the problem arose; the one that now had Peter hiding in an alley when he knew Wade was waiting for him.

     For the past month, all Peter had been able to think about when he was around Wade was taking his own mask off. Some crazy voice in his head told him that it would be a good idea to reveal his identity to the less than reputable merc. Now that Aunt May was gone, the sad, lonely side of Peter Parker desperately wanted someone to know _him_. To be friends with Spiderman even if he was just plain, ole’ boring Peter Parker underneath.

     To be fair, he had Ned and M.J., who he hung around with on campus and sure, Ned did know that Peter was Spiderman, but he didn’t truly understand. Wade though, had been fighting crime next to Peter since he'd taken down Vulture when he was 15. Ned and M.J. didn’t know what it was like spending every night swinging through the night buzz of New York City: the adrenaline and nerves that came with every fight, or the sorrow that came when someone couldn’t be saved in time.

     But Wade knew and something about that meant so much more than anything.

     Wade had been his closest friend for a while now. Despite what everyone always said about Wade, how dangerous he was, the honest truth was that Peter trusted him. Part of him wanted nothing more than to just be Peter Parker around the older man; to be able to take off his mask, maybe eat some pizza, play video games, just...be normal.

 _Ha, what a joke,_ Peter thought darkly.

     Nothing was ever normal in Spiderman's life. And NOTHING at all was normal when it came to Deadpool.

     Loud shouting pulled Peter from his thoughts and he tried to pinpoint where the noise originated from. He could hear the deep voices of men yelling, aggression laced in the sounds, and Peter’s head tilted up in the direction of the next door building’s rooftop. A particularly clear “ _What the fuck are you going to do about it?!_ ” echoed down into the alley and without a second thought, Peter began climbing the wall. As quietly as he could, he reached the top ledge of the roof and peeked over.

     Four men were standing a few feet away from Peter, their backs mostly turned towards him as the two men in long black coats closest to him began violently cussing out the two younger looking men across from them. The two younger men Peter could see more clearly, and their faces had the tired, sickly look of two men crashing hard. They were most likely trying to score the next hit before the DTs set in too hard. Before he could listen in to hear exactly what the argument had been about, one of the coated men reached into his pocket and quickly drew a handgun which he cocked and aimed at the other pair.

     Realizing the time to act was now, Peter lept over the edge and landed almost silently on the smooth rooftop. He got the perfect chance to shoot a string of webbing at the dealers before anyone had even noticed him. With a quick flick of his wrist, the gun was pulled out of the man’s hand. Finally at this point, the men saw their new visitor.

     “I don’t think we need to resort to violence to work this out boys,” Peter taunted, catching the gun and throwing it aside and out of the way. The two younger men screamed and frantically scrambled their way to the stairwell doorway next to them. The two men in black though weren’t so easily frightened.

     In fact, they looked pissed.

     “Why, you fucking punk!” the man whose gun had been stolen growled. He crouched slightly and Peter realized that the man was about to charge him. Before the hulking man could land his tackle, Peter dodged to the side. The man’s momentum however didn’t give him enough time to readjust. With a shout he went tumbling over the edge of the roof and a desperate yell ripped from his throat.

     Acting quickly, Peter leaned over and shot a web down close to the street and the man fell softly in the cushy center with a shocked _huff_. Peter’s spidey-sense went off quickly but he assumed it was for the man plummeting to the sidewalk. People shouting in the streets gasped at the shock of the fallen man and stared disbelievingly at him stuck in the adhesive threads. Peter stood up to turn and face the other criminal. 

     He honestly felt the gunshots before he heard them. A hot flash of pain burst in the left side of his chest, but instantly was gone. His head whipped up and there was the other dealer, handgun pointed directly at Peter’s head now.

_Sloppy. I should've known he would have a gun too._

     The dealer had a panicked look; his eyes bulging wide as they darted back and forth between Peter and the edge where his friend disappeared from view.

     “What the hell did you do to Tom?!” he yelled. The gun shook minutely in both of his hands but he kept it pointed directly at Peter.

     “Relax, your friend is just a little tied up right now,” he replied with a smirk. It was too easy to thwip a mass of webs at the weapon, binding it up together with the dealer’s hands. He looked shocked to say the least but he didn’t have long to contemplate his situation before a sticky rope of web grabbed his torso and yanked him over the edge like his friend. Peter left him dangling just a foot away from his partner in crime. A few people cheered at the stunt and definitely a few people screamed. Off in the distance, police sirens were crawling their way through the streets slowly towards them and Peter guessed that a bystander must have already called the police.

     The dealer had been heavy and there was a deep pain aching in his chest from having held his weight, even briefly. Peter knew he had to get lost before the police showed up, so he shot his way over to the next rooftop. He barely made it though when a strong wave of pain blossomed across his sternum. The strength seemed to be slowly leaving his limbs as if he was suddenly exhausted. He darted across one more rooftop and carefully lowered himself down into the alley between two of the buildings, but he could hear his own heart beating in his ears by the time he finally touched back down on the pavement.

     The world started to spin--the lines of brick walls swimming up and down. Peter stuck his hand out and barely managed to catch himself before he listed dangerously to the side. The dull throbbing in his chest was quickly turning burning hot. He tried to drag in a deep breath and almost cried out with the sharp stabbing pain that shot down his arm and up his neck. He could distantly feel the chill of the breeze hit his damp suit and when he pulled his gloved hand away from his shoulder, his hand glistened in the lights of the streetlamps twinkling on.

     “Baby boy! There you are! I was beginning to think that you were never going to show!” a loud, boisterous voice behind Peter shouted.

     Peter lifted his head towards the merc who stood at the mouth of the alley a couple of yards away. The motion made the world swim out of focus and a wave of nausea rolled down the length of his spine, knocking almost all the air out of his lungs.

     “Wade…” he managed to gasp out while he took a small step towards the older man. His foot caught the cement and his legs refused to move any faster but luckily he was spared crashing into the pavement by a strong pair of arms that just barely caught him in time.

     “Oh shit Spidey! Are you alright?!”

     Peter closed his eyes to stop the dizziness and took a shaky breath into his burning chest. He could smell the familiar scent of Mexican food, gunpowder and blood that was naturally Wade. Although he figured the blood might actually be his own. He felt the world tilt as Wade scooped his legs up and cradled him.

     “Holy Christ, baby boy. Did you just get shot in that fight?” Wade asked, panic seeping into his voice. He tried to adjust Peter in his arms but the slight jostle caused Peter’s left arm to shift and the bright flash of unexpected pain had him gasping out loud.

     “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry, Spidey. We need to get you to the hospital right now.” Wade started moving down the backs of the buildings, trying to move carefully and keep Spiderman out of the sights of the crowd gathered on the main street.

     However, his words had Peter snapping his eyes back open immediately. “No! We can’t go to the hospital!” he gasped out, surprised at the breathlessness of his own voice. He just couldn’t seem to catch his breath, not with the heat and ache radiating out from the left side of his chest.

     “Please, Wade, no hospitals…” he whispered.

     There was a pause from the merc and Peter was sure he was going to object, but instead he just sighed.

     “Okay, Spiderman, we’ll go with Plan B then.”

     Peter could feel them moving but he was too dizzy to lift up his head and look. Instead, he took a shaky breath.

     “P-Peter…”

     “Huh?” Wade asked, distracted as he began ascending the rickety back stairs of his apartment building.

     “My name…” he said. He was so tired, absolutely exhausted. “My name is Peter.”

     There was a quiet murmur as Wade whispered his name, like he was trying it out for the first time. Peter could feel them coming to a stop but every time he tried to open his eyes the sky spun.

     When Wade spoke again, his tone was warm and reassuring in a way that Peter didn’t think he had ever heard before from Deadpool.

     “Okay, Peter, I’m going to get you all patched up, alright? I just need you to stay awake. Stay right here with me, okay?”

     Peter hummed out a consenting sound. After all…

     He trusted Wade.

     There was a little shuffling as Wade opened the door to his apartment. The pair slid inside without anyone seeing.


	2. See Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some blood and mentions of gore in this chapter, so if you're squeamish, I'm sorry. 
> 
> Italicized text is character thought.  
> {{ }} is yellow box.  
> [[ ]] is white box.

     Wade Wilson carefully laid the web-slinging, wall-crawler down on his messy bed. He desperately hoped that the red and blue hero didn’t mind the nest of sheets underneath him.

 _Peter. His name is Peter,_ he thought reverently.

     {{He must have lost a lot of blood to be crazy enough to tell us his name!}} Yellow shouted disbelievingly.

     [[We should probably check to see how badly he’s been hit,]] White suggested relatively calmly.

     Wade shook himself away from the boxes. Peter was breathing slowly, labored, but still steady. There was one clear hole in the spandex suit up on his chest near his left arm. The bullet hole was unmistakable to the merc who was more than familiar with _all_ types of ammunition. The fabric around the wound was almost black from the blood soaking through and Wade knew he had to get pressure on it immediately. He made a mad dash through a couple of rooms of his apartment, stuffing his arms with supplies as he ran by.

     By the time he got back to the bed, Spidey seemed to be a little more lively. The bottom half of his mask was pushed up to his nose and Wade could hear the raspy edge to his breathing. The second that Peter tried to push himself up on his good arm though, Wade quickly used one gloved hand to push him back down on the bed.

     “Hoooooold on there, pardner,” he said with a heavy southern drawl. “I need to take a look at what the barking irons gave ya before ya end up in the bone orchard, cowpoke.”

     Peter let out a quick chuckle before exhaling sharply with a low groan, but he let himself be laid back down without a fight.

     “And I’m sorry,” Wade started again, “but I think I’m gonna have to ruin your suit.”

     “Oh, fuck the suit.”

     “Spidey! Language!” Wade reprimanded, scandalously. He grabbed the pair of scissors that he had thrown down on the side table with the rest of the supplies. He carefully got a hold on the already damaged fabric and began cutting towards the collar, revealing the ivory expanse of Peter’s chest. However, right where the top of his left pec began climbing to his clavicle was a large, angry-looking bullet wound. After a second glance, Wade spotted a second gash, slightly lower on the side of Peter’s rib-cage and cut just enough more to see the whole gash of it.

     “Looks like the second bullet just grazed you,” Wade said, his tone serious again. “It isn’t bleeding too badly, but I’m more worried about this up here.”

     Wade grabbed one of the old, clean towels that he had scooped up and carefully placed it near the open wound. Peter whimpered softly at the pain despite the soft pressure. The hole was still bleeding aggressively, rivulets of blood running down Peter’s chest and onto the sheets below. Wade knew he had to stitch it up as quickly as possible, but before he could do that…

     Wade gently tilted Peter’s arm up off the bed, repeatedly apologizing at the anguished sound that slipped from Peter’s lips. He got a quick peek at the back of his shoulder and slowly laid him back down.

     “I have bad news and then, like, super bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” he asked.

     “Oh god,” Peter groaned out. He took as deep of a breath as he could, then sighed. “I guess bad first.”

     “Okay good, it makes more sense that way anyways.”

     “Wade!”

     “Sorry, sorry. Like I was saying, and I hate being the bearer of bad news here, Petey, but you’ve still got that slug in you, pal.” Wade was already reaching back and grabbing a tall, mostly empty bottle of clear liquid and an orange medication bottle.

     “And what's the super bad news?” Peter asked dreadfully as he tried to roll up his mask off the back of his neck as far as possible. It was suddenly so very hot in the room.

     “The super bad news is that I need to go in and pull it out, and that is definitely not going to feel like a walk in the park.”

     Peter felt the white-hot flash of fear run through his heart. Wade was going to have to dig out a bullet… from the screaming, ridiculously painful, open wound on his chest...right now.

     Wade could hear the way Peter’s breath froze and felt absolutely terrible. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the person he idolized, especially when he was already in so much pain.

     {{Well?! Are we just going to let him bleed out here on our bed? Cleaning up blood is so much more fun when it’s not our own!}} Yellow shouted enthusiastically.

     [[It certainly has been awhile since the last time, and we’ve been dying to try out that new bleach.]]

     {{Bleach Party! Bleach Party!}}

     “We don’t need bleach!” Wade protested out loud, earning him a confused look from Peter that he couldn’t see beneath the mask.

     “Huh?”

     “Shit. Uh…” Wade looked at the two bottles he still held in his hands. When Wade spoke again, it was with a calmness that surprised Peter immensely. He thought he could also hear a hint of something sad in the older man’s voice as well.

     “Look Peter. I’ve got some painkillers and Everclear and that might take some of the edge off, but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch if I do this here. It’s not too late for me to call an ambulance and they can do it ri--”

     “No,” Peter interrupted. “No hospitals. And..” he had to take a second to pause, catching his breath through the pain. “And I know you can do this. I trust you.”

     “Are you sure?”

     “Absolutely. Give me the pills,” he said resolutely.

     “Alright, alright,” Wade said, popping the top off the orange bottle and shaking out two oblong, white pills and handing them to Peter. He unscrewed the top of the alcohol before passing it over as well. “It’s gonna taste like shit, but you’ll be thanking me later.”

     Peter took a swig to wash down the pills but almost coughed it all back up at the sudden burning in his throat and mouth as the liquid slid down.

     “See, told ya.”

     “Ha. Ha. Very funny,” Peter said with as much sarcasm he could muster. If he was to be honest though, the familiar teasing back and forth was helping him relax.

     Meanwhile, Wade finished cleaning up a pair of forceps with rubbing alcohol and rearranged the towel near the wound without actually covering it up. He leaned his weight down across Peter’s chest with his left forearm, hoping that he’d be able to keep him pinned at least a little bit if he began moving too much. Wade wanted this to hurt as little as possible if he could help it. Using his left hand, he spread the wound a little, getting ready to start. Just that pressure alone made Peter gasp out loud.

     “Here,” Wade said, prompting Peter to grab onto his left arm with his right. “Grab on tight and squeeze all you want, hunk. If you break a bone, no big deal, she’ll heal back up,” he said with a wink through his mask. Peter still had no idea how he did it, but the goofiness did manage to get a chuckle out of him. God, why did Wade have to be such a flirt all the time? Like, literally all the time.

     Peter let himself grab onto the thick muscle of Deadpool’s left bicep, acknowledging the cruel fate of how _this_ would be when he got to touch those arms that constantly ended up in his thoughts.

     “I’m gonna count to three,” Wade began saying, “and then I’m gonna start. Take a deep breath and start letting it out slowly on three. If you breathe through it, it won’t be so bad. Alright?”

     The air felt too thick, too hot, and Peter could hear his blood rushing in his ears, but he swallowed down the thick lump in his throat anyways and nodded.

     “Absolutely.”

     Wade felt Peter’s fingers tighten up on his arm in anticipation and thought that it was now or never.

     “One...two...three.”

     In as smooth and precise of a movement as he could, channeling all the grace he could muster (and Deadpool was known for his grace, thank you very much) Wade spread the wound slightly before delving in with the forceps. He heard the weak shout that slipped out of Peter and felt a short jerk underneath his arm with the initial intrusion but he was honestly impressed at how well he seemed to be handling the pain. He could even hear the deep breaths in his ear as Peter focused on what Wade had directed him to do. Kid sure was a quick learner.

     It seemed like thankfully the wound wasn’t too deep because quicker than he expected, he felt the familiar clink as forceps hit metal. After just mere seconds Wade was digging out a jagged piece of metal from the wound. Blood poured out in a quick, heavy gush before dribbling again.

_Shit. A fragment._

     {{Oops.}}

     [[Uh oh.]]

     As soon as Wade pulled the forceps out, Peter gasped in a huge breath of air. He had never felt anything even close to that amount of pain in his life. He tried to breathe normally but his chest felt so tight, so hot, and a wave of nausea threatened to expel the meds and liquor from his stomach. Black spots danced for a second around the edges of his eyesight and in an angry, desperate movement, Peter ripped his mask off his head as the room spun.

     He didn’t even think twice as he pulled in long, cool sips of air that finally seemed to soak down into his lungs as the fresh wave of pain ebbed away. The sweat matting the short hairs on his neck instantly cooled and the nausea passed blessedly.

     Wade froze. He was dumbstruck.

     Awestruck.

     Thunderstruck.

     Dumbfounded, flabbergasted, befuddled and stupefied.

     Even the boxes were silent.

     Spiderman-- _THE SPIDERMAN_ \-- took off his mask and he was...gorgeous. Wade knew Peter was 21, but the soft edges of his face, his huge, doe-like, brown eyes and the way his light-brown hair messily flopped down across his forehead made him look so young and stunning. Those rich, chocolate eyes were red-rimmed and Wade could see the tear tracks that slipped from the corners of the brunet’s eyes and down the sides of his temple into his sweaty hair.

     Wade was staring. He knew he was staring and that he had to stop. He also was vaguely aware of the forceps that shook from the tremors in his hand, still pinching the large bullet fragment.

     {{Snap out of it!}} the boxes yelled in unison.

     [[Snap out of it!]] the boxes yelled in unison.

     Wade threw the fragment onto the small porcelain plate that he had grabbed. He prayed that Peter hadn’t seen the way his hands shook, the way his whole body seemed to lock up, the way air seemed to have lodged itself in his windpipe and refused to move--

     “Wade?” Peter’s voice was soft and gentle, and yet it made him jerk as if his seat was suddenly electrified. Wade stared intensely at the mess of first aid supplies. Anything so he wouldn’t have to look back into those beautiful eyes.

     “Why did you do that?” he asked. He cringed at the thick words as they left his own tight throat. Spiderman had taken off his mask; had given him his first name. People never let themselves be vulnerable around Deadpool. He was too reckless, too crazy.

     Too dangerous.

     Surely the young hero had heard all of these things, after all, Peter did team-up with the Avengers every once in a blue moon and almost all of them hated Wade. Why would Spiderman put something as precious as his secret identity in Wade’s blood-soaked hands?

     “I’m sorry,” Peter said finally. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, tipping his head back on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling as he gathered his thoughts. Wade had a point. Why did he do it? He realized that the only answer he could give was the truth.

     “I just wanted to. For a while now.”

     That had the Wade whipping his head back around to stare at him. He thought for a second that Wade was going to argue with him-- say something, _anything,_ about him giving away his name or taking off his mask. However, Wade was silent as he shifted in the wooden chair before he leaned his arm back across Peter’s chest and got into the same stance as before.

     “Wade?” Peter whispered.

     “There’s still more of the bullet in there that I have to get out,” he said matter of factly. Peter gulped, not because he was afraid of the pain that he knew was coming back, but because he felt like he had royally fucked everything up. He knew that giving away his secrets was not necessarily the best idea but he hadn’t thought that Wade might not _want_ to know. Maybe he didn’t want to get to know him past “Spiderman”. After all, he was just plain, old Peter Parker, nothing special, when he wasn’t in the suit.

     Dread filled Peter’s stomach, making his heart beat anxiously. Wade watched as Peter’s face seemed to fall apart, fear etching back in quickly. Just seeing it made something possessive and protective flare up in the mercenary’s blood and he suddenly couldn’t feel his own anxiety so much.

     Helping Peter was _way_ more important.

     “Just grab a hold again, baby boy, and I’ll have this over before you can even say Lake Chaubunagungamaug, sweetcheeks.”

     Another one of those breathy, nervous chuckles graced Wade’s ears. Making Spiderman laugh was one of Wade’s favorite things to do, but he considered himself lucky to get that much out of him right now. Trying to be serious again, he started counting to three.

      Like a champ, Peter forced himself to lay still and breathe through the pain of the metal digging around in his flesh. His eyes were clamped shut and he could feel his arms and legs start to tremble through the onslaught. Soon enough though, Peter managed to catch the tiny _clink_ of metal hitting porcelain, once… then twice. Wade’s body weight lifted off of him and Peter let himself ditch his careful breathing exercises and began gulping in air like it was going out of style.

     “Carefully, Spidey, breathe easy. You’re going to make yourself pass out like that,” Wade whispered. Peter opened his eyes and saw that Wade was close, pressing the already stained towel to the wound as the blood began to trickle again. His gloves were completely shiny with the dark fluid but Wade didn’t seem to mind in the least. Considering how often the merc got hurt himself, Peter figured he must be pretty desensitized to it by now. Wade directed him to hold the towel to his chest, putting as much pressure as he could take on it. Looking at the blood drenched towel, Peter was suddenly aware that he was laying in what looked to be Wade’s bed. Laying in it, and completely ruining the sheets with his blood.

     "Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Peter embarrassingly said, painfully self-conscious. “I’ve completely ruined your bed. I’m so, so sorry,” he started rambling.

     A loud laughed barked out of Wade and Peter quickly shut his mouth.

     “Are you seriously apologizing for _bleeding_ right now, Spidey? Jeez, you super hero types are all the same,” he said with a chuckle as he reached for his suture kit.

     “I...I mean…” Peter stammered. “It’s not very polite, at least.”

     Wade lost it at that, and Peter let himself laugh softly too. It was a nice moment and his nerves began to fade again.

     “Yeah, he definitely is,” Wade said, although his tone seemed distant, and Peter guessed that Wade wasn’t talking to him, rather to one of his “boxes” that Wade had once confusingly explained. He was sort of used to it by now, no matter how weird it really was. It was just weird like Wade… in a good way.

     By now, Wade was opening up a gray, plastic box that might have once been a first aid kit. It was completely covered in Adventure Time stickers now though and what was most likely spots of dried blood, judging by the color.

     Wade froze though, looking down at the contents of the box.

     {{You know you need to take your gloves off to stitch him up!}} Yellow teased.

     [[Let’s hope he doesn’t puke when he sees your skin,]] White insulted.

     Wade dreaded the thought of taking off the gloves, but to work with that needle and thread without butchering up Spiderman? He’d have to do it. Sure, Peter had seen the bottom of Wade’s face when they ate after team-ups. So surely if Peter could eat and look at him then he’d be okay with this too, right?

     But touching him with his skin was a different story entirely.

     [[Fine, let him bleed out then, see if we care,]] White said with resignation.

     {{Awww, but then no more cute Spidey butt!}} Yellow whined.

 _Fuck it_ , he thought. This still wasn’t about him.

     Without further hesitation, Wade ripped the first glove off, followed by the other, letting them drop to the floor. With practiced hands, he cut off a length of suture thread and tied it quickly to the curved needle. When he was satisfied with that, he dropped the whole thing into the glass of rubbing alcohol and grabbed a new towel. He poured some of the rubbing alcohol onto the towel and cleaned his hands with it. The whole time it felt like he could _feel_ Peter’s eyes drilling into him, on his skin, but he pushed through it. After all, Peter had taken off his mask and shown Wade his _face_. The least he could do was stop being a big baby and do what was necessary to save his friend.

     Picking out the needle and thread from the liquid, he gave it a quick dry and shifted in his seat closer to Peter again. Wade carefully pulled Peter’s hands away from the towel, taking it back himself and dumped it on the already ruined floor.

     “You ready?” he asked, although Peter’s face already had a determined look about it.

     “Yeah.”

     “Just keep breathing alright, this might feel a little weird. Just hold on again, okay?”

     It definitely felt weird, that was for sure. Peter could feel the way the thread tugged through his skin as Wade deftly pulled the skin back together again. It stung, but compared to digging out the bullet, Peter would pick this any day. Maybe those pills that he took were just starting to kick in finally. He tried not to watch Wade’s hands as he worked, but he was entranced by their gentleness. Peter had once seen Wade punch a guy with these hands so hard some teeth came out, but now, they felt warm and reassuring on his stinging skin. He could tell how Wade didn’t like having them exposed though, so he politely tried to look away.

     Wade began humming a tune, probably from some TV show, but Peter couldn’t place it. He felt his eyelids droop a little and decided that closing them for a moment wouldn’t hurt. He must’ve dosed off for a minute or two because too quickly Wade was sitting back and saying, “All done! Frankenstein’s monster is complete!" with a goofy, evil laugh.

     “Oh wow,” Peter whispered as he looked down. A neat little line of red held together by black little threads stood out on his skin and he could feel how they gently tugged when he breathed.

     “Now, don’t go pulling any of those out, you hear? The first Dr. Deadpool visit is free, but you don’t want to know how much my office charges after that.”

     Wade helped sit Peter up slowly and got him into the avocado-green recliner that sat on the other side of the room. The merc ran around, all the while singing Ke$ha as he worked. The bed sheets were ripped off and thrown to the pile gathering on the floor before Hello Kitty sheets were tucked in. He even helped Peter cut off the tattered remains of the top of his suit, blushing furiously but thankful for his mask. He handed Peter a clean, wet towel and let him wipe the blood off himself while Wade dug around in a drawer for a t-shirt. After getting off as much as Peter could without a proper bath, Wade helped him slip the shirt on over his head, mindful of keeping Peter’s left arm still. After a second of digging around in his closet, throwing weapons, comic books, and a stuffed unicorn out of the way, he actually found an arm sling which he helped Peter into as well.

     “There’s no way you’re swinging home like this and undoing all my beautiful stitching,” Wade was saying resolutely as he helped Peter back up. Peter let himself be led to Wade’s bed again, so very exhausted.

     “You sleep here tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll make pancakes!” Wade excitedly began listing off flavors of pancakes and Peter took the moment to wiggle down into the sheets.

     “Wade?” Peter asked softly as he interrupted the other man who was currently listing every berry known to man.

     “Oh, huh?”

     “Would you just… stay with me for a bit...until I fall asleep, I mean…” Peter awkwardly blurted out. When Wade didn’t respond right away he continued, “I’m just still kinda shook I guess. From earlier.” It sounded even more pathetic out loud than it did in his head.

     “Sure, Spidey,” Wade answered. “I’ll stay as long as you need.” He sat down on the side of the bed next to Peter and leaned over to turn off the small lamp. When it was dark, Wade softly began listing the pros and cons as to why pancakes were better than white bread for sandwiches, and Peter fell asleep almost immediately to the soft chatter.


	3. I Just Thought

     “Come on, Spidey, you’re almost 22 and you’ve never been to a bar? You’re already waaaaaaaay behind,” Wade rambled as he pulled Peter by the hand down the street. It was already 11:30 at night and everything seemed to be quiet in the snug neighborhood of the Bronx that Deadpool was currently dragging him through. Peter noticed the small groups of men, sometimes with a woman or two, who would be standing grouped up on a doorstep; cigarette and marijuana smoke drifting through the air while music would creep through open windows and screen doors. Despite the smattering of people here and there, none of them seemed too interested in the men dressed in full spandex walking down the street. Where the hell was Wade taking him now?

     It was a week after the messy shoot-out that had left Peter almost knocking on Death’s door. Deadpool had, true to his word, made probably 4 dozen pancakes, most with patterns of chocolate chips sprinkled into shapes. One had even been a real close image of Peter’s mask, but Wade swore that he could do better next time.

     The stitches helped Peter’s slight healing factor speed things up and in only four days Wade said that they looked ready to come out. Peter was just glad that he hadn’t ripped any of them out. His suit, which Iron Man himself had gifted Peter with, had actually managed to fuse itself back together in the night, although it was still completely stained in brown, dried blood. Seeing the suit as he lifted it up in the light of day was like a slap to the face. Tony’s suit was amazing, but Peter was still human inside of it. Right now though, his humanity was drenched in the soft fabric. He felt weak, pathetic, like he still didn’t deserve to wear it after all this time he spent trying to make sure he did. His fist clenched painfully in the fabric…

     But suddenly Wade was standing behind him, silent and invisible to Peter’s spider-sense which caused him to shiver at the observation. Wade slowly reached his hand out and gently tugged the suit out of Peter’s fist. Peter, still maskless from the night before and making no hurry to put it back on, spun around to look at Wade. He wished though that he could see Wade’s expression, but he _could_ see how Wade seemed to be inspecting the undamaged fabric. After a long pause he finally spoke.

     “You’re lucky that I know the best recipe of seltzer water and lemon that’s perfect for getting blood out. If you add too much seltzer you’re gonna fuck the whole thing up, trust me.”

     Peter felt the betrayal of tears stinging his eyes, so he dropped his gaze to his arm tucked against his chest. He _was_ lucky. So fucking lucky.

     “I bet you a dozen tacos that there’s no way you can get all of it out,” Peter said, trying to force a smile.

     “Oh you are SO on, Spidey!” Wade shouted triumphantly as he lifted Peter’s suit up like a sacred relic. “BEHOLD THE POWER OF LAUNDRY!”

     Wade could be such an idiot sometimes, but Peter’s smile was genuine as he followed the boisterous mercenary to the laundry room.

     Now though on the other hand, Peter was following Wade down some block corner. An ominous brick building loomed across from a park with brown grass and surrounded in chain link. There was a line of motorcycles parked on the cracked sidewalk, nearing a lit stairwell that was covered by a tattered awning. Two _huge_ men in leather riding outfits and sporting beards were leaning on the building near the stairs, chain smoking huge clouds of cigarette smoke into the night.

     “Hey Buck! Hey Boothe! Long time no see, amigos!” Wade chimed happily as they approached the entrance.

     “Hey, Wade. See you still haven’t dropped dead yet,” a man, either Buck or Boothe, grunted out with a head nod.

     “Not yet! But I would keep holding your breath if I was you,” he teased as he pushed Peter past the two men. As they began descending the stairwell towards a hefty, wooden door Peter caught a glimpse of the bronze plaque on the side of the building:

     Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Girls.

     When the door opened, Peter immediately felt his spidey-sense go off. Wade however just grabbed his hand and began pulling him through the crowd behind him. Peter’s breath caught at the way Wade’s fingers entwined tightly with his and how Wade kept him close behind him, almost flush against his body.

     “Just say close to me, baby boy, and no one will give you any trouble,” Wade whispered in Peter’s ear so he could hear over the ruckus.

     This place was _definitely_ not a school, although Peter did see a couple of wayward girls-- but typically they were called prostitutes by the look of their outfits and how they were draping themselves across some men sitting in front of a _huge_ pile of cash.

     Loud rock music was bumping through the bar. Some people were grinding on a small dance floor, some were saddled up to the bar on wooden stools, but most were gathered around small tables either gambling or drinking heavily. Actually, it seemed like everyone was doing some of both. These kind of people looked rough. Like the kind you didn’t want to corner you in an alley.

     Wade seemed to know every single one of them though.

     “Hiya, Jefferson, how’s the wife and kids?” he asked a young Latino man with an eye patch.

     “Susan! Are you still taking those theremin lessons? I’m sooooo jealous,” he told a hooker with a skirt so high Peter figured it was just a second layer of panties at this point.

     “What’s up, Lil’ T? Hope the nose job went smoothly,” he politely told a scruffy man, roughly 500 pounds, with a large, white bandage covering his nose.

     Thankfully Wade slipped them across the room up to the bar. A man with horn-rimmed glasses, long, blond hair, and stubble that looked at least three days old was working behind the counter, swiftly popping caps off of beer bottles and handing them to a cute, little waitress.

     “Weasel, my man!” Wade said excitedly.

     The blond man, apparently Weasel, saw Wade and rolled his eyes. “What the fuck you doing here?” Weasel sighed. He took his glasses off and wiped them with the bottom of his stained t-shirt.

     “It’s Friday, remember? You told me the gang was hanging here. I brought a friend,” Wade explained, leaning over the counter top and grabbing two beers from the cooler. He popped the tops off on the counter corner and handed one to Peter.

     Weasel finally noticed the other man in spandex, like it wasn’t strange here in the least, and frowned.

     “Why would you bring a minor into a bar, Wade? You looking to win pedophile of the year fifteen years running?”

     “Well I’m sure not going to let your ugly ass defeat my record,” Wade sassed right back.

     “Hey! I’m not a minor!” Peter said, trying to defend himself a little. As if to prove his point, he rolled his mask up to his nose and took a swig from the bottle. Oh god, did all beer taste like swallowing hay and shit?

     “Yeah, sure kid,” Weasel said, apparently over it already.

     “Come on, Jackie boy, come drink with us in the clubhouse. Tell Lil’ T to cover the bar,” Wade whined, trying to convince his friend.

     “You know T’s recovering from a surgery.”

     “Oh fuck you, he can still pour beer and mix drinks. Any monkey can do it.”

     “It’d be best not to insult the monkey that makes _your_ drinks,” Weasel said, but he was apparently surrendering. “Hey, tell Lil’ T to cover the bar. I’ll clear his tab if he does,” Weasel instructed the waitress, who just popped a bubble-gum bubble in a snarky attitude before sauntering away.

     Peter followed the two men down a hallway behind the bar. He had to step over a mop and bucket and around some crates of empty bottles, but he made it to a doorway halfway down the hall.

     The ‘clubhouse’ was a sort of cramped room decorated with a bar on one side and a round table in the middle with a random assortment of chairs around it. An old, beat-down jukebox was in one corner, but despite it’s battered appearance it still seemed to be working.

     Peter noticed that there were two people already sitting at the table, empty bottles starting to gather on the tabletop. One of them was a woman; young with mocha skin and an afro that would have been perfect in the 70’s. When she looked up, Peter noticed that she had a spot of vitiligo around her left eye, creating a stunning white spot on her face. He also couldn’t help but notice that she was carrying two pistols that were holstered by back straps attached to her skin-tight, black leather outfit. The other person at the table was a man who looked to be about forty maybe, wearing a seafoam-green polo tucked neatly into khakis. His simple, brown hair was parted methodically and he had an incredibly full and perfectly trimmed mustache. He didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons at all, at least at first glance.

     “Come on, Spidey, sit next to me,” Wade directed. “You know how to play gin rummy? Good, but just to warn you, Domino always wins.”

     Weasel grabbed a round of beers and brought them to the table, taking the last spot. It was… kinda normal feeling. Peter had never gone out to go drinking before, especially with friends, but everyone seemed to welcome him in. He even was starting to get used to the taste of the beer by the time he reached for the second one passed to him.

     Wade was amazed at how Peter seemed to be getting along quite easily with his friends. Domino was aloof and cool at first, clearly sizing up the spider. However, after only a couple of minutes, she must have deemed him chill enough to invite him to a whiskey shot. Her favorite.

     Peter W. on the other hand was maybe a little too friendly, telling Spidey all about his kids, home in England, and every single job he’s had since he was 16. Peter was surprisingly patient though, chatting pleasantly and accepting shots when appropriate.

     After the first three games of rummy that Domino absolutely won every round off, they pushed the cards aside forgotten. Domino showed Peter how she could manipulate luck, demonstrating by having Wade stand against the wall where she closed her eyes and threw a small throwing knife at the merc. Deadpool had yelped like a 16-year old girl, but the blade had landed perfectly in the wall between his thighs.

     Weasel told Peter that he had been a computer genius but that he had given up that life for the fame and fortune of being a bartender. Peter couldn’t really tell if he was lying or not.

     Peter W. insisted that he was just an ordinary guy.

     Spiderman had happily answered any questions that they had about him too. He showed them how he could shoot webs with his web-shooters. He thwiped a heavy bottle of dark liquor off of a shelf behind the bar and caught it deftly with a quick tug. Peter W. had actually clapped, but mainly everyone cheered and poured a new round of shots with the bottle.

     “So that’s all you got, Spiderman?” Domino asked, raising one sculpted eyebrow and smirking. “Just those, web-shooter things?”

     “No way!” Wade shouted. He had been going shot for shot with Domino and Peter could see his easy grin with his mask rolled up to his nose. “He can do like a bunch of spider things and he’s got the strength of like, a trillion spiders, or something like that.”

     “Something like that,” Peter laughed. “I do have one party trick though.”

     “Oh now you have to deliver,” Weasel said, clearly amused.

     Peter stood up from the table and walked over to an open wall. Wade watched, still impressed, as Peter placed his fingers to the wall and began climbing like it was nothing. His sticky, wall-crawling powers made it too easy to reach the ceiling and hang right in the middle of it. Placing both of his feet squarely on the ceiling, he slowly stood up, letting go with his hands as he pulled away. It looked like gravity had flipped and he was just standing casually on the ground, but in fact he was perfectly upside-down.

     “Holy shit,” Weasel whispered in awe.

     But before anyone else could comment, Peter began dancing to the music playing. Maybe dancing was a bit of a stretch considering how he was wiggling his hips slightly and his hands clearly had no clue what to do other than bop near his chest. Classic white-boy at an awkward prom dancing.

     Domino, Weasel, and Peter W. burst out into laughter, whooping like Peter was the best act on stage. Weasel shouted that if he could do that, his ex-wife never would have left.

     “Hey! Didn’t anyone ever tell you that mixing drinks and acrobatics is dangerous, Spidey?!” Wade asked, getting up to stand next to him.

     Peter laughed deeply, tilting his head back to laugh, which gave Wade a gorgeous view of his neck from this angle. “Alright then, spot me.”

     Peter squatted down so he could place one hand back on the ceiling before he gracefully let his body flip back down, right-side up. All Wade could do was keep his hands awkwardly up, but Peter didn’t seem to need any help at all. Spiderman silently dropped the last foot and a half down and smiled up at Wade triumphantly.

     And boy, didn’t that just take Wade’s breath away.

     “See? All good,” Peter reassured.

     Weasel stood up from the table, swigging down the full shot glass in front of him as he slipped behind Domino.

     “Hey, Wade, come with me to smoke in the alley. There’s been this rabid possum back there or something and I need you to act as a human shield,” Weasel said, already leading Wade out the door down the hall, pushing him from behind.

     “Yeah, alright, I guess,” he said as he went willingly enough. Fresh air did kind of seem like a good idea.

     Weasel shoved the back door open and plopped down on an old milk crate. He dug out a battered pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and Wade tossed him a lighter from one of his pouches as Weasel searched for one to no avail.

     “I don’t see any crazed possum out here, Weas.”

     “Wade, you think it’s a good idea? Hanging out with this kid?” Weasel asked now that they were alone.

     “He’s not a kid, Weas, and besides, we just team-up to whoop ass against baddies,” Wade replied flippantly.

     “Come on, Wade, I know you. You know you. You’ve got feelings for this kid. Am I wrong?” Weasel said in the know-it-all tone. Wade instantly felt guilty.

     “It’s not like that,” he said, but apparently the lie was too shitty to fool Weasel.

     “Pfff, oookay, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

     “What the fuck does it even matter?” Wade snapped. He suddenly didn’t feel like he needed fresh air anymore.

     “He’s like, what, 9 years younger than you dude?”

     “Fuck you.” Wade was already grabbing the door handle and swinging it open.

     “Whatever man, it’s none of my business,” Weasel said, still chugging on his cigarette.

     “You got that right,” Wade spat, closing the door on the other man’s face. He slipped through the dark hall, pacing and he almost kicked over a bucket of water and a mop that he completely missed.

     {{Weasel is right, you are a perv,}} Yellow said snidely.

     [[How could you think about fucking Spiderman, the HERO,]] White chimed in like usual.

     {{Psh, like he would even look at us like that, never mind be crazy enough to _touch_ us.}}

     [[We would just fuck everything up if we had a chance anyways.]]

     “Just shut the fuck up you two,” Wade hissed to the darkness. “Just shut the. Fuck. Up.”

     “Wade? Are you okay?” a soft voice said in front of him.

     Deadpool whipped his head up and saw Peter, his mask still rolled up, standing outside of the clubhouse door.

     “What?” Wade said, still shaking off the voices mocking him.

     “I said,” Peter repeated as he stepped right up in Wade’s space. From this close, Wade could see the flush peeking out the bottom of Spidey’s mask on his cheeks. He must be warm from the suit and those shots. “Are you okay? Do you want to walk home?”

     “Together?” Wade asked. He felt like his brain was fried.

     “Of course,” Peter laughed. “Are you really going to leave me here alone?” The sound of Spidey’s laugh was warm, even in the freezing depths of Wade’s heart.

     “Never,” Wade whispered. “Come on, let’s go.”

     The pair slipped out of the bar unstopped. The night air felt so cool on the bottom of Wade’s face and it seemed to settle the whirlwind of thoughts a bit as he rolled his mask back down.

     “Come on,” Peter said and slid his hand into Wade’s again. He began leading the way towards Wade’s apartment.

     The boxes were dead silent the whole way back.

     When Peter and Wade walked into Deadpool’s apartment, Peter immediately went over to grab his backpack that he had left there before Wade had dragged him out drinking.

     “I’ll find something to watch on TV,” Wade offered as he watched Peter step into the bathroom.

     “Okay cool, be right there,” Peter said distractedly as he stumbled into the dark bathroom before finding the light switch.

     Wade felt nervous. He shouldn’t be nervous. Peter and him had hung out in his apartment a bunch of times. His conversation with Weasel earlier was nagging on him though.

     He stood there next to the sofa, clicker in hand, as he absentmindedly flipped through the channels without really seeing any of them.

     [[Better not get any funny ideas, old man.]]

     {{Netflix and Chill!}}

     [[Should we make popcorn?]]

     {{Ooo! We should grab the condoms and lube too!}}

     _Shut the fuck up you two. I swear to god I’ll make both of you listen to the Thomas the Train Engine theme song for two straight days._

{{Is that some sort of punishment?}}

     “Find anything good?”

     Wade spun around to see Peter standing there, shoving the last leg of his Spiderman suit into his backpack. He was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt with some math joke on it that Wade didn’t really understand. His hair was messy from wearing his mask earlier and Wade could see how his skin was still pink from the liquor. It was a real struggle not to stare.

     Wade turned his head to the TV to see what channel he had landed on. On the screen, Mary Berry was teaching a small horde of bakers how to make a cherry cake in a flouncy tent in a scenic field.

     “It’s this gory, blade-wielding, death-battle arena of skills where the weakest are added to the ovens as fuel.”

     Peter giggled. “You mean The Great British Baking Show?”

     Dang this boy was too smart.

     Peter sat down onto the sofa easy, pulling his legs up and stretching them slightly on the couch. Wade reminded himself to sit down, keeping himself on the opposite side of the couch. After a minute or two though, Peter started commenting happily on the show and everything felt much more relaxed.

     They tried watching the show completely, but eventually just sat turned towards one another on the couch, chatting about pretty much everything and anything. Peter seemed almost sleepily relaxed, and laughed at every dumb thing that rattled out of Wade’s head, so he must have been tipsy still. His head leaned against the back of the couch and his messy hair threatened to hang in his eyes.

     “Do you ever take that mask fully off?” Peter asked, raising one eyebrow as he leaned in a little closer.

     “Once in 1988 when the President told me it was a matter of national security. I told Reagan though that I would never again, even if America needed me. I’m Canadian after all.”

     “Just for a moment,” Peter insisted. His hand came up slowly, like he intended on taking off the material. Wade grabbed it quickly in the air, being careful not to squeeze too tightly, but not wanting Peter to escape.

     “I’m not scared, Wade,” Peter tried to reason as his other hand came up too. Wade promptly intercepted it as well.    

     In a swift movement that Wade hadn’t expected, Peter twisted his wrists and before he knew it, his own wrists were secure in Peter's grip.

     {{Ooooo, that spidey-strength is soooo hot!}} Yellow practically moaned.

     [[Can you imagine him pinning us down and ridin--]]

     “What would it take for you to take off your mask in front of me?” Peter asked brazenly, interrupting the boxes entirely.

     “No way, Jose,” Wade automatically replied, trying to pull back from Peter's grip.

     Peter kept Wade’s wrists in his hands with his super-strength though, keeping them apart as he swung his leg over, landing in Wade’s lap.

     Wade froze. This was NOT good.

     {{Holy shit, this is a dream.}}

     [[Do NOT wake up right now.]]

     “How about two minutes and I’ll never ask again,” Peter bargained. He let go of Wade’s wrists and rested his hands on Wade's shoulders. Even through the spandex and leather, Wade could feel the warm grip on his skin. He had absolutely no clue what to do with his hands, certain that he could NOT place them on the boy shockingly in his lap .

     “Uh,” was what Wade crafted into a solid argument.

     “I’ve known you for 6 years and I still don’t know what you look like. That’s hardly fair, Wade,” Peter whined in the most adorable, take-me-serious tone of voice.

     “No. No can do, Spidey.”

     “How about one minute and I’ll also tell you my last name.”

     “I’m doing you a favor here, Petey, trust me.”

     “Bullshit.”

     “No thanks, I own a farm in Kentucky and I keep three silos worth of bullshit there.”

     “One minute, my last name, _and_ I tell you my birthday.”

     Dang. That was pretty tempting.

     “Okay, just 60 seconds only. Not a single second longer,” Wade insisted, suddenly feeling really anxious.

     However, Peter laughed warmly as he lifted his hands up to the bottom of Wade’s mask. Overwhelmingly, Wade wanted to wrap his arms around Peter’s back, but he kept his arms stock-still by his sides. Peter paused though and Wade realized he was waiting for Wade’s go ahead. Peter’s face was quizzical and his eyes scanned over Wade’s mask. His body however was loose and relaxed in Wade’s lap. He wondered just how drunk Peter had really gotten. Did he have a super metabolism like Wade? Probably not.

     “Okay Wade?” Peter whispered.

     Like a death sentence, Wade uttered, “Yeah.”

     Feeling Peter’s bare fingers lift the material on his face was very overwhelming. Wade had to avert his gaze down, feeling like a coward as he did it. He just couldn’t stand to see the look of disgust on Peter’s face. It felt like eternity between the seconds that he felt the mask slip off completely and before Peter finally spoke.

     “Parker,” he said casually.

     “What?” Wade said confused, gathering the courage to look at the man in his lap.

     Peter was smiling in that way that Wade thought he would never get used to seeing. “My last name, it’s Parker. Peter Parker.”

     Wade was speechless.

     Peter’s gaze drifted over his face; his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips… but instead of fear or revulsion, he just seemed to be absorbing every detail peacefully. His right hand even came up to tenderly touch the side of Wade’s face near his ear. It took all of Wade’s strength to not lean into the strangely kind touch.

     “My birthday is August 15th.”

     Wade dared to look at Peter’s eyes and felt hypnotized by the sweet expression on his face. Friendly, reassuring, gentle. No one looked at Wade like that, not since he was too young to walk.

     “Your eyes…”Peter started with a breath, “they’re blue.”

     Wade couldn’t take it a second longer. It felt like he was flayed open in front of the whole city of Manhattan. He let his gaze drop from Peter’s.

     Wade was too busy looking down in his lap to see Peter lean in to kiss him. Just suddenly, warm lips were timidly touching his. He felt the warmth of Peter’s breath through his nose on his own scarred skin and it felt like his heart came to a screeching halt.

     Wade’s hands grabbed a hold on Peter’s shoulders and jerked him back. Peter’s eyes shot open again and he looked completely shocked.

     “What are you doing?” Wade asked, probably too loudly. Peter just owl-stared at him, a hurt expression suddenly crossing his face as his eyebrows scrunched together.

     “I...I j-just,” Peter whispered.

     “You can’t do that,” Wade said sternly as he lifted Peter up easily, both of them standing. Wade grabbed his mask back from Peter’s limp hand and put it on quickly even though his hands were shaking. Weasel’s voice ran through in his head, asking Wade if he thought that this was a good idea. Taking advantage of Peter after he had spent all night getting the younger man drunk? That was _FAR_ from a good idea.

     “You should just… just go sleep in my room. I’ll stay out here.”

     Peter just stood there, arms wrapped across his stomach, holding himself as he stared at the floor. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like he was about to say something, but eventually he just spun on his heels and closed the door to Wade’s room behind him.

     The room was silent as Wade stood there in the low light and shadows. The boxes however had plenty to say. Wade simply sat back down on the sofa and held his head in his hands. There was no way the boxes were letting him sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up Peter's birthday from his first comic, Amazing Fantasy #15, August 1962 cuz I tried, but couldn't find a real answer, lol.


	4. A Second Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there are more mentions of blood and gore in this chapter, just to warn you. I also went back and made some small corrections to the last chapter. Sorry about any spelling and grammar mistakes.

     Peter didn't get that much sleep either. He had just laid down, replaying his dumb idea over and over again in his head and forcing himself not to let any tears fall. A memory slipped into Peter's thoughts and he let himself get lost in it for a moment.

     He had just turned 18 and his first semester at college had just started. It had been going well, but that day he had been sitting on a rooftop in his Spiderman suit, hoping for anything at all to happen to distract himself. The city was quiet for once though, so he just sat and watched the sun begin to set.

     “Hey, Spiderman! Shouldn't you be off somewhere in a dim library doing hours and hours of fancy college homework?” Wade had asked as he made his way across their usual rooftop. He sat himself on the ledge next to Peter and placed a bag of Mexican food down between them.

     “Nah,” Peter sighed, “I'm all caught up already.”

     “Of course you are,” Deadpool chuckled. “Well it's a good thing I brought a butt-ton of food then. You seem like you could use some cheering up.”

     “Is it that painfully obvious?” Peter asked dreadfully. It had been one of those days that you just wanted to forget entirely. It had been alright at first: classes went smoothly and he had even gotten an A on that paper he had spent three nights working on, but it all went downhill from there. When he had gotten to the Daily Bugle, hoping to drop off the photos of Spiderman that Jameson had asked for and maybe get some actual spending money, he spotted Betty Brant sitting at her desk in front of Jameson’s office.

     Betty was gorgeous with her dark brown hair, tight pencil skirts, and she was fresh out of high school like Peter. She worked as J. Jonah’s private secretary and was as smart as a whip. For a couple of months now, Peter had tried “flirting” with her every time he came in, but quickly realized that he in fact had no clue how to actually flirt. Usually she would politely smile while he stuttered and rambled on about the weather or sports that he knew nothing about.

     This day though, Peter thought why not? He walked over to her desk where Betty looked up from her computer and smiled politely.

     “H-hey, how’s it going?” he managed to get out.

     “Hi Peter, it’s going alright. Are you here to see Mr. Jameson?” she asked in her sweet, tiny voice.

     “Uh, yeah, but I wanted to tell you, I mean, I wanted to ask..to ask you,” Peter started. Now that it was happening it felt like he was apart of some train wreck that he couldn’t stop even if he tried. “If you wanted to go out Friday night, w-with me?”

     It felt like slow motion as he watched her expression change to shock, followed by pity.

     “Oh, that’s very sweet of you, Peter, but you’re not really my type, I’m sorry,” she said kindly. Peter however just wanted the floor to swallow him up whole.

     “Oh yeah, yeah, that’s fine. I totally get it. Uh, I guess I’ll just go talk to…” he rambled off, pointing to Jonah’s office as he started shuffling off in that direction.

     “Go right ahead, he should have your check ready for you,” Betty said as she turned back to her computer to work. It had been the most embarrassing moment of his life. Now, sitting next to Wade, Peter didn’t really want to relive it.

     “I uh, I asked a girl out today. But she said no,” Peter had told Wade.

     “What! For real? Was she a skrull?” he had asked as he unwrapped a taco and began shoving it into his mouth.

     “Huh? No! No, I mean, she was just a co-worker…”

     “Forget about her, Spidey. She’s clearly got her head screwed on backwards to say no to Spiderman.”

     “Well, it’s not like she knew that I’m Spiderman or anything, and besides, she shares the same opinion as J. Jonah Jameson. Spiderman is just some menace terrorizing the city,” Peter had said with a sigh.

     “Exactly my point then!” Wade had shouted, almost dropping his taco as he flung his arms up. “If she can’t see how amazing Spiderman, OR the person underneath is, then she ain't worth the time, baby boy.”

     Peter had sighed deeply. Wade’s words were sweet and the typical thing you tell your buddy when he gets denied, but it still had hurt when Betty had said no.

     “It’s just so embarrassing being 18 and still never have kissed anyone,” he admitted. He looked up to see Wade staring at him. His mask was still rolled up but the taco was forgotten in his hand.

     “Your first kiss should be with someone special. Give it time, Spidey.”

     Wade’s words ran in his head as he lay in the merc’s bed. He _had_ given it time, three whole years worth more, but apparently he was still Peter “The Romance Loser” Parker. He had just thought, with all of Wade’s flirting and everything that maybe, just maybe...

     Despite his best efforts, the tears did start to come. Eventually though, after enough time, the tears stopped and he fell into a fitful sleep.

     A few hours later, Peter woke with a start, forgetting where he was at first before the memories of last night came flooding back, causing his face to turn bright red. He dreaded going back out to the living room, but he needed to grab his bag and shoes.

     He inched the door open quietly, peeking into the living room, but Wade was nowhere to be seen. With a little more confidence, he opened the door completely, stepping silently into the room over towards his stuff. He put on his hoodie and sneakers, and checked the rest of the apartment, but Wade wasn’t in the living room, bathroom, or kitchen.

     _He left._

Peter snagged his bag off the floor and slipped out of the apartment, deciding that a nice, long walk home would help distract him. He found it extremely difficult to get the red and black merc out of his head though no matter how many times he tried. He walked the distance to his cramped studio apartment on auto-pilot and flopped down on his bed the second the door was closed.

     Sleeping for the next 24 hours straight sounded like a good idea.

 

~*~

 

     Two days passed and Peter couldn’t bring himself to go out as Spiderman. He managed to go out to the corner deli for food once and even chatted and played video games with Ned on Xbox Live. Everything just...well, sucked.

     “Are you okay man?” Ned’s voice asked him through his head set. “You’ve been slaughtered like 10 times in a row at the spawn point.”

     “Sorry, Ned,” Peter sighed, putting down his controller. “I guess I’m just not up for it tonight.”

     “Busy past couple of nights with the ‘Stark Internship’?” he asked, the air quotes prominent in his tone.  

     “Naw, I just.. I guess I got into a fight or something with a friend and I think I sort of ruined everything…” Peter tried. He had never really told Ned about Wade, but he thought that Ned would still understand.

     “Anyone I know?”

     “No, no, just uh, someone from work.”

     “Hmm, well, have you tried talking to them again, you know, after the fact? Sometimes you just gotta give them some space and then try to apologize. You remember how pissed M.J. got when I accidentally dumped all that wood glue on her sketchbook? I thought she was going to voodoo curse me or something.”

     “Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

     “Of course I am! So are you up for another game?”

     Peter was debating it when he heard his cell phone ring. Looking at the screen he saw that it was Mr. Stark.

     “Sorry, Ned, I gotta go, Mr. Stark calling,” he rushed out.

     Peter was suited up and swinging from building to building only five minutes later. Tony Stark had called, told him to suit up, that he was needed in the Bronx, that Friday would send him directions to his suit, and then hung up. There had been loud crashing sounds and popping like gunfire, so Peter didn’t waste a single second.

     Currently, the pleasantly soft voice of Tony’s A.I. Friday was guiding him up through Manhattan towards Crotona Park. The sun was just starting to go down, but Peter still had plenty of light to swing by. Friday blessedly told him that he was approaching his destination when he finally saw it.

     What looked to be dozens of squat robots were drilling their way out of the baseball diamond’s outfield. Upon closer inspection, they looked like animalistic robots; patches of fur here and there, and some of them had drills for hands while others looked like they had handguns.

     “Cap? What are we dealing with here?” Iron Man spoke through the coms which Peter could hear in his own earpiece.

     “It looks like Mole Man has sent a horde of robot moles up to cause a ruckus,” Cap said, bashing one particularly quick rodent with his shield as it charged him.

     “Jesus, what the heck is that weirdo thinking?” Tony sighed.

     Peter swung down onto the street near the field and saw that some of the robots were already running down the street. He thwiped the end of one robot’s gun, covering it entirely with webbing. After a second, the gun and the robot’s arm blew clean off and the machine fell to the ground. He quickly shot webs at the other two robot’s legs, tripping them up. They smashed to the ground and Peter stuck them effectively to the asphalt with a couple more shots.  

     “Tony, you take Spiderman and go protect those apartment buildings across the park. Don’t let those drilling robots get into any residential buildings. Falcon will cover you as well,” Rogers ordered. Peter could hear the clash of his shield against metal from down the street and in his earpiece at the same time. “Deadpool and I will stay here and cover the field to try to stop most of them as they come up.”

     Peter’s stomach dropped. Wade was here?

     “Come on, Spiderman,” Tony said as he flew down next to Peter, hovering above the ground. “We’ve got work to do-- leave Cap to babysit Deadpool.”

     Tony started flying away so Peter shot a line of web at Iron Man’s foot, tagging along as the man blasted across to the opposite side of the park. A few lines of moles that had successfully made it out of the ground were running towards the apartment buildings. Peter dropped off first to web up the last couple of rows of them, while Stark started blasting the front rows with his pulse-arc reactors. Peter even saw Falcon swoop over his head at one point, scooping up a robot and lifting him up high in the sky before dropping him where he smashed back on the ground.

     Peter started making his way back to the field, punching and sticking down any stragglers that were still coming up. About halfway across, he heard the whistle of Cap’s shield as it smashed into a mole trying to flank him.

     “Thanks sir,” Peter said gratefully.

     “No problem, I appreciate your help,” Steve said as he pulled his shield out of the sparking remains of the robot next to Peter’s feet.

     “Yeah, yeah man, anytime, I mean sir! Sir.”

     Everything seemed to be quiet. Peter and Steve stood in the small grove of trees, trying to see and hear if any more moles were digging up, but it seemed like it was over now.

     “Those _robots_ were so poorly made a blind man with no fingers could have done a better job,” Stark said over the coms, clearly over it already.

     “Alright, Tony, Sam, I want you to fly around the perimeter to double-check for any stragglers.”

     “Gotcha, Cap,” Sam replied.

     The next thing Peter knew, his spidey-sense flared up incredibly strong. At the same moment, before he could even react, something big and solid was tackling him and Steve down to the ground.

     “GET DOWN!” someone had yelled but Peter barely heard it over the sonorous BAM of a gunshot, right next to his ear.

     Peter hit the ground hard, the world completely silent for a heart-beat before a high-pitched ringing crept in. He could hear a muffled voice, maybe saying his name, but when he opened his eyes, he gasped at what he saw.

     Everything was completely red.

     After a panic-filled second, Peter’s brain finally caught up and he realized it was blood. Blood on the lenses of his mask. The thick, irony scent of it filled his nose and he had to push down the immediate reaction to vomit. There was something heavy draped over the bottom of his legs, and when he looked down, he couldn’t understand what he was seeing at first. He wiped at his face furiously with his arm and looked again.

     The recognizable pattern of Deadpool’s red and black outfit made it obvious that Wade was what was pinning him down. He was completely still though, and when Peter glanced over at his head, a shout jumped out of him. The back of Wade’s head was completely gone, just a mass of blood and tissue.

     He reflexively pulled his legs back and Deadpool’s lifeless corpse shifted down into the grass and dirt. He didn’t realize that the strange, pained sound he was hearing was coming from himself until a pair of strong hands grabbed his head and turned his face away.

     “Look at me, directly at me,” Cap said, his loud, stern voice promptly shutting Peter up. He almost bit his tongue as his mouth snapped shut.

     “Do you have another mask? Another mask?” Rogers had to ask him twice before he started nodding his head. With shaky hands, he grabbed the one spare mask he had tucked away in his pouch. He pulled the blood-soaked one off furiously, not caring in the least where it ended up. He slid his new one on and glanced up to watch as Cap was gently flipping Wade onto his back.

     “I’m so sorry, Spiderman, I should have been 100% sure that the robot was down. It almost killed us both.” He sounded so sad and guilty. “Wilson just saved our hides big time.”

     Peter couldn’t speak. He felt like he couldn’t even breathe.

     He _knew_ that Deadpool was immortal. He had seen the way that bullet holes would close or how whole fingers would grow back.

     But he had never actually _seen_ Wade die before.

     “Sam, Tony, Deadpool’s been shot. He’s down,” Cap said morosely into the coms.

     Wade was just completely _still_. A pool of blood was gathering in the grass underneath his head, a deep ruby red. Not even the logical voice in his head could shake the sharp, ripping pain in his chest at seeing his best friend _dead_.

     Wade had saved his life twice now.

     Falcon swooped down next to the men, his mechanical wings folding back up as he slowed to a stop.

     “Shiiiiit,” Sam drawled, taking in the sight of the merc. “What happened here?”

     “The robot was still functioning and it tried to shoot both of us, but Wade pushed us out of the way and took the whole brunt of it. He managed to give me a second to finish it off though.”

     “How we gonna move the body?”

     “Nobody is touching him!” Peter shouted, startling the other heroes. He crawled the slight distance over to Wade and took the merc’s limp hand in both his own. “He’s going to be fine!”

     “Kid, look…” Sam begun but Steve put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

     “Spiderman’s right, Sam. Deadpool has a spectacular healing factor. Trust me, he’ll be back up in a couple of minutes.”

     Steve knelt back down on the ground next to Peter. He placed a large, warm hand on his back hoping to help slow Peter's breathing.

     “We’re going to stay right here and wait for him to wake back up, right Spiderman?”

     Peter glanced up at Cap, feeling the tears threatening to spill. Steve had taken off his mask though and his face was kind and patient looking. The sight was reassuring and some of the intense waves of anguish seemed to slow in Peter's frantically beating heart. All he could do was nod in response.

     “Alright, why not,” Sam said pleasantly enough and sat himself down too.

     Time seemed to drag on forever. There was the almost non-existent sound of wet meat mushing together coming from Wade’s skull as his body was pushing bone back to bone and brain back together properly.

     Ever so slowly, like drifting back awake from a deep sleep, Wade’s brain started sending electrical impulses again. Little bursts of colors and sensations burst into existence and Wade’s muscles twitched as his brain searched out every inch of its control. Light and sound was eventually recognizable and piece by piece he was able to take in his environment. The first thing that drifted in clearly was Spiderman’s mask.

     “Spidey? What are you doing here?” Wade asked. His throat was still scratchy from the healing, but it came out clear enough.

     “I’m so, so sorry, Wade,” Peter said, his voice betraying how close to crying he was. He didn’t even care that Captain America and Falcon were standing next to him. He didn’t know if he was going to get a second chance. “I took advantage of you when you trusted me, and I’m so incredibly sorry.”

     {{What the hell is he talking about?}}

     [[What did we miss while we were dead?]]

     Wade opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off.

     “SPIDERMAN!” The two looked up to see Iron Man landing back down on the ground near the group. “I need to talk to you right now, come with me.” The way that he said it left no room for argument.

     Peter stood up slowly, letting his hands slip from Wade’s. Deadpool hadn’t even noticed that Spidey had been holding his hand up until then and he instantly missed it, but he didn’t stop him. Instead of talking though, Iron Man scooped Peter up underneath his armpits and flew the two of them away.

     “That guy’s an asshole,” Wade said as he watched them disappear.

     Sam laughed loudly at that. “He definitely has his moments.”

     “Are you alright, Wade?” Steve asked.

     “Yeah, yeah, fresh as a daisy.” He picked himself up off the ground, brushing dirt and grass off his suit, but a good amount of grass was already stuck to the patches of dried blood.

     “I owe you for saving both of us,” Steve said, standing up as well.

     “Well… I guess I’ll save my get-out-of-jail-free card for a rainy day then. I’m outta here.”

     Steve and Sam watched as Wade wobbled a little dizzily at first across the field, but he seemed to steady out by the edge of the park.

     “Well shit, I ain’t never seen a dead man get up and walk again,” Sam said in awe.

     “Yeah, this century is insane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think that this story is going to be seven chapters long, but I'll finalize it when it gets a little closer. Thanks to everyone still reading. Because of you guys, it's all worth it~*


	5. Don't Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long to post, I just wanted to be happy with it before I posted. There are also new tags~nudgenudgewiggleseyebrows

     “Let me down Mr. Stark, I am not a kid anymore!” Peter shouted over the wind in his ears. Iron Man’s mechanical sounding voice was loud and booming next to his head.

     “You still act like one sometimes. Stop wiggling!”

     Peter groaned in frustration. He knew he could fight Mr. Stark off if he wanted to but he really wasn’t in the mood. Thankfully, they already were slowing down to a stop and Peter recognized that it was the tall rooftop next to his apartment building. Stark dropped him down and landed his suit as well.

     “Why did you bring me here?” Peter practically yelled.

     “You mean took you home?” Tony said snarkily. His face plate came up and Peter could see that he did not look happy.

     “You know exactly what I meant!” Peter snapped.

     “I brought you here to find out exactly what the fuck you think you’re doing.”

     “What?” Peter gasped. He thought that he had done alright during the fight. He listened to Cap, he helped Tony… alright, almost getting shot wasn’t so great, but other than that...

     “Don’t ‘what’ me,” Stark said, rolling his eyes. “What did I tell you about Deadpool, Peter?”

     Now, he really got angry.

     “You told me what _you_ think you know about him, but you don’t know shit!” Peter shouted and Stark actually seemed mildly surprised at his reaction. “You act like you know everything!”

     “I _know_ that I told you not to associate yourself with that schizophrenic, heartless, murderer! And yet you continue to act like a rebellious teenager trying to pick a fight!” Tony said as he poked Peter roughly in the chest. “You think Spiderman can really change someone like that? Huh? One of these days you’re going to end up dead because of him, I’m serious,” Tony tried to stress in his best I’m-right-so-listen-to-me voice.

     All Peter could do was laugh at how acutely wrong Stark was. Tony’s eyes widened in shock as Peter actually chuckled. Deadpool watched his back like no one else did, _even_ Tony with all his somewhat misguided attempts to be a like a father figure.

     “Look Mr. Stark, you keep telling me that he’s some dangerous whirlwind of destruction. And honestly? Yeah, you’re right. Deadpool can be dangerous, deadly, AND unpredictable at times,” Peter said resolutely. He stepped in close to Tony so that the older man could hear him very well. “But what you also keep saying is that he’s heartless, and _that_ makes you more wrong than you can know.”

     Peter spun around and jumped the two stories down to his building’s rooftop gracefully. He climbed down the wall on the opposite side and slipped in through his bedroom window. Distantly he could hear the jets of Stark’s suit fade away, but he never looked back.

 

~*~

 

     Deadpool pushed through the door of his apartment and made a beeline for the shower. He peeled off his suit as the water ran, slowly growing warm. He was still a little dizzy, but head-shots always took a little longer to shake off. He purposely avoided looking at his reflection in the mirror while he lifted his mask. The back of it was basically tatters so he threw it right into the small trash can. He had a dozen others in his dresser anyways.

     Once the water was hot enough to be barely stand-able, Wade slipped underneath the spray. It stung slightly but the heat helped to melt off the large patches of dried blood matted to his skin. Bright pink water ran off of him and down the drain. After most of it was off, he reached for the bar of soap and began scrubbing.

     In his head, he kept replaying the moment when he saw that robot raise it’s gun, perfectly aimed at both Peter and Rogers behind him. Deadpool didn’t have a second to think, only react, and with total desperation he had lunged to knock them out of the way.

     {{AND THEN BAM!}} Yellow shouted.

     [[Darkness my old friend,]] White supplied. After dying, the boxes seemed to get talkative again, like they missed having the opportunity.

     {{Did you hear how pissed off Iron Man sounded?}} Yellow giggled.

     [[Did you hear how sad Spiderman sounded?]] White retorted.

 _He said he was sorry_.

     {{Yeah, sorry for kissing our ugly mug.}}

     “No,” Deadpool said out loud to himself. “He said he was sorry for taking advantage of me.” Did Peter really think that _he_ was the one that took advantage of Wade?

     Deadpool finally realized what a big, dumb idiot he was.

     [[About time.]]

     {{Took you long enough.}}

     He knew that he had to go talk to Peter, to settle whatever this was. He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself as he grabbed his phone off the sink counter and texted Peter.

_I want to talk, can I meet you somewhere?_

     As he waited painfully for his phone to buzz, he got dressed in a spare suit and mask from his drawer. He ended up pacing for 4 whole minutes before he heard his phone go off. The message simply contained an address, somewhere on 46th Ave in Flushing, NY. He dashed out and headed straight there.

 

~*~

 

     It turned out, 163 46th Ave in Flushing was a cemetery: Flushing Cemetery to be exact. Wade hopped out from his taxi and walked through the front gates. They were still open despite it already being dark and the hanging sign stating that closing was at dusk. Not like Wade would have listened anyways.  

     He picked one winding path at random and began strolling through. Little solar lights were staked in the ground along the paved walkway and provided some additional light as Wade tried to keep an eye out for Peter. About halfway through the cemetery he spotted a person sitting in the grass along a row of headstones. It was definitely the young spider as he got closer, although Peter wasn’t wearing his Spiderman suit now as he sat on the ground, hugging his knees. He was dressed simply in a hoodie, jeans and sneakers, and a backpack most likely holding his suit was on the ground next to him. His hair was slicked back and still a little damp from his shower.

     {{What a mess you made!}}

     [[Good job getting your brains all over him, fuckface.]]

     Peter didn’t look up at Wade as the mercenary got closer. He just kept staring ahead at the stone in front of him. Wade could see clearly from the lamp lights that Peter’s eyes were red and his face was tear-stained. He must have been crying for a while now.

     “Don’t you know it’s not safe after dark in a cemetery? That’s when all the ghosts come out to get shitfaced,” Wade tried, but the joke didn’t land.

     He turned towards the stones in front of Peter and froze when he read the names.

     Richard Parker.

     Mary Parker.

     Benjamin Parker.

     May Parker.

 _This_ was Peter’s family.

     Wade had known that Spiderman lived alone once his aunt had passed a year ago, but seeing them all here lined up was heartbreaking.

     “This is where everyone ends up,” Peter said morosely, waving a hand at the line of stones. “It doesn’t matter what I do. As Spiderman, or as Peter,” he sniffled. “And seeing you laying there, dead…” Peter shook his head, like he didn’t like what he was thinking. “It felt like every other time I had to watch them die. Like the universe was determined to take the last truly important person from me.”

     Peter huffed out a laugh, a dejected sounding noise. “But I already fucked that up too, didn’t I?”

     Wade rolled up his mask to his nose, trying to figure out what to say. Peter just looked so lost and alone. The world had spent basically 21 years taking loved ones from the most kind and loving person Wade had ever met. Now, Peter was sitting here, thinking that he had managed to lose Wade too along the way.

     Wade dropped down next to Peter and pulled him into a tight hug. Peter’s arms were trapped against Wade’s chest but he didn’t fight against the embrace at all.

     “I will never leave you, not unless you ask me to, baby boy. I will _always_ come back to you,” he whispered into Peter’s ear, trying to pour as much comfort into his voice as possible.

     That hit something really painful in Peter’s heart and the floodgate of tears re-opened. All he could do was clutch the katana straps across Wade’s chest in his fists and bury his face in the merc’s neck as sobs racked his body.

     “Just let it out, Peter. You’ve been so strong holding it in this whole time, but it’s okay now. Just let it all go, I’ve got you,” Wade said as he cradled the back of Peter’s head, rubbing gentle circles into the smaller man’s neck and shoulders. He rocked Peter minutely as he sobbed in his arms. He kept trying to soothe Peter as he wept; he even placed small, soft kisses to the side of Peter’s face, temple, in the mostly dry hair near his ear, anywhere he could reach without pulling away.

     And through the crying Peter could hear Wade’s deep voice in his ear, tenderly whispering calming words to keep him grounded. All those layers of pain, grieving, and guilt that Peter had stuffed down inside seemed to be clawing their way back out of his chest but at the same time he knew it would be alright as long as Wade was here to see him through it.

     “You don’t ever have to feel alone, Peter.”

     “You could never do anything to make me hate you.”

     “You don’t know how much you fucking mean to me, Peter.”

     After what felt like forever to Peter, the sobs began losing force, replaced with whimpers and hiccups and he tried to get his breathing back towards somewhat normal. Wade kept holding him though, not trying to pull away now that the majority of the outburst was over.

     “Hold on tight, Peter, I’m going to take us home,” Wade said as he reached over to slip Peter’s bag on his shoulder. He got one arm underneath Peter’s bent knees and lifted him up easily. Peter kept his arms wrapped around Wade’s neck with his face buried, hiding the last tears that were still not over. He would normally object to being carried like a girl but he thought that if he tried to stand his legs would shake out from underneath him.

     Wade walked them back to the entrance where his taxi stood idling for him still. He placed Peter down carefully and opened the door for him. Peter crawled into the back and tried to avoid making eye contact with the driver. He knew that his face had to be a puffy, hot mess by now.

     “Thanks Dopinder,” Wade said as he slid in behind Peter. “I know how spooked you get around cemeteries, you know, with the threat of zombies and everything.”

     “Oh, it’s alright, Mr. Pool, I kept the doors locked while I waited,” the young Indian man replied happily. The cab started moving and Wade wrapped his arm around Peter, pulling him flush against him.

     Peter could feel himself blush and his heart skipped a second, but he just went with the motion and rested his head down against Wade’s chest. Feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of the older man’s breathing was incredibly soothing.

     “Where to now, DP?” Dopinder asked.

     “Just take us home, my man. It’s been a loooong day.”

     When the taxi finally pulled up in front of Wade’s apartment, Peter had almost drifted off to sleep. Wade opened the door to get out, turning around to offer a hand to Peter as the younger man slid across the seat. Peter stood on the sidewalk while Wade leaned back into the cab. He slipped the driver what looked like a wad of folded twenties before saying thanks and wishing him a good night.

     “Good night Mr. Pool and Mr. Pool’s friend!” Dopinder said enthusiastically before pulling away.

     After a second of watching the taillights get smaller, Wade slipped his hand over to Peter's, lacing their fingers together as he led them up the rickety back stairs. He felt like maybe he was pushing his luck but Peter just squeezed his hand right back as he followed him silently.

     The lights were off in the apartment but Wade had left the window blinds open and the bright, red neon from the Chinese restaurant’s sign next door bathed the room in a surreal glow. He wearily lead Peter across the living room and tried not to knock into any of the pizza boxes or piles of his junk along the way. When they got to his bedroom, Wade took the effort to turn on the small lamp resting on his nightstand to help give a little bit more light to the shadowy room.

     When he faced Peter again, he saw how red and tired his eyes looked. There were still little hectic splotches of color on his cheeks that made the rest of him look very pale. Wade knew how sometimes when you were at your lowest it felt like all your squishy, sensitive insides had been flipped inside out to the light of day and how even though it could feel cathartic, it could also be completely draining.

     “You should probably get ready for bed, you must be exhausted. I’ll be right back, just one minute, okay?” Wade asked tenderly. Peter nodded silently, so he slipped out.

     Wade ran to the walk-in closet off his living room that was his makeshift laundry room. He wrangled himself out of his suit and jumped into a pair of gray sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt, a hoodie, socks, and after some internal debate, kept his gloves and mask on. He snagged a face cloth from a pile of towels and went to the kitchen sink where he stuck it under cool, running water. Wade rung out the excess water and turned back to his room.

     When he walked in, he saw Peter standing there by his bed, looking totally lost and unsure. He had taken off his sweater, jeans, and shoes which he had piled up neatly on the recliner. Wade couldn’t help his gaze drift up and down Peter as he stood in an old t-shirt and plaid boxers.

     {{Daaaaaaaaaang, we like.}}

     [[Way too many clothes still though.]]

     {{OOOOO, we should fix that!}}

     “Sshh you two!” Wade hissed. Peter heard though and turned to look at him. “Uh sorry,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. With a couple of steps he was standing right in front of the younger man, forcing Peter to crane his head up to face him.

     “I’ve got this,” Wade said, lifting up the damp cloth, “it helps, trust me. Just, uh, close your eyes for a minute, okay?”

     Peter nodded again and Wade watched as his eyelids fluttered shut. His eyelashes were still a little damp but looked beautiful as they fanned out on his cheeks. Wade couldn’t help himself as he reached one hand up to cup the side of Peter’s face reverently. He stroked his thumb softly over his cheekbone as Peter’s lips parted just so, breathing slowly. He could see Peter’s eyes dance underneath their lids but he kept his eyes closed like asked.

     Wade brought the face cloth up and touched the cool material to Peter’s face. At first, he could hear a tiny hitch in the smaller man’s breath as the chilly fabric languidly ran across his skin, but he felt the way Peter’s body swayed a little closer after a moment. Slowly he cleaned the barely-there tear stains and tenderly dabbed at Peter’s closed eyes. It felt so strange to have someone standing here in front of him, trusting him _so_ _completely_.

     When he was done, he pulled his hands away regretfully. Peter’s eyes flitted open after a second and Wade could swear that he was looking directly into Wade’s soul, even with the mask still covering half his face.

     Moving ever so slowly, giving Peter time to realize what Wade was doing and stop him if he wanted, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Peter’s. His hands came up to Wade’s shoulders, fingers squeezing tightly and pulling Wade even closer against him. Wade dropped the face cloth and wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist.

     A moan squeaked out of Peter and Wade took the opportunity to lick into the boy’s mouth. Peter tasted sweet, even the air that left his lungs Wade greedily chased as he kept the kiss going. The younger man’s movements seemed shy at first as he learned the ropes but he was indeed a quick learner as Wade felt his tongue dancing across his own and exploring too. Peter’s lips felt so amazingly smooth against his own chapped ones, and he reluctantly pulled away so that the two of them could catch their breaths.

     “Please,” Peter whispered, “don’t leave.”

     “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered right back, tightening his hold around him. He shuffled backwards, pulling Peter with him towards the bed. He flipped the sheets back and tugged him down into the bed with him. Once they were both under the covers, Wade leaned over Peter and flicked the light off.

     Wade felt the smaller man tense up underneath him and he glanced back at his face. His eyes were half-lidded and his lips were still parted barely as he gazed at Wade expectantly above him.

     {{Kiss him again!}}

     [[Kiss him again!]] both Yellow and White said simultaneously.

     Wade actually listened to them this time. He leaned down and closed the last bit of distance between them as he found Peter’s velvety lips again with his own. Instantly Peter was wrapping his arms up around the back of Wade’s neck, holding the other man in place as they kissed over and over. Wade leaned on his forearm so his other hand could run up and down Peter’s side, feeling the ridges of ribs and the jut of a hip bone. Wade shuffled a tiny bit so he could press his body down more firmly against the younger man’s.

     Peter gasped as Wade’s thigh pressed down on his groin, giving delicious friction where he needed it.

     “Wade… Wade, please…” he begged, although he didn’t really know what he was asking for. All he could think to do was roll his body up against the thick muscles above him, holding on for dear life to Wade’s arms.

     The mercenary was currently trying to suck a bruise onto the gorgeous stretch of skin where Peter’s neck met his shoulder, lapping at his clavicle and he alternated between marking the flesh and licking it soothingly. Hearing Peter though, spurred him on further.

     Wade took his hand off of Peter's hip, biting the leather glove at the tip of his finger and ripping the material off. He _needed_ to feel Peter’s skin with his own.

     Wade pressed his mouth back to Peter’s as he slipped his hand under the soft cotton of his shirt, feeling the warm skin over his tight abdomen and pushing the offending fabric up. Wade let his fingers caress every divet of Peter’s abs, the little dip of his belly button, and the smooth, ticklish valley of skin where his hips traveled down into his boxers.

     He didn’t stop there though and he let his warm hand press down on the hard length trying to rub against his leg. Peter was a trembling mess in his arms as he began squeezing and massaging the younger man’s erection over his boxers.

     After a minute, Peter broke the kiss to moan loudly into the room. Wade took the moment to look down to see the tip of Peter’s cock, flushed dark red and leaking as it peeked out the top of the boxer’s waistband.

     [[Lord have mercy.]]

     {{Don’t let him leave so we can keep touching him forever!}}

     Wade pulled his hand back for a second, earning a pained-sounded groan of displeasure from the smaller man. However, he just took a quick moment to lick a wet stripe across his palm before dipping it under Peter’s boxers and wrapping tightly around the twitching length.

     Peter’s back tried to arch under Wade pinning him down and he moaned once before panting heavily. Peter had touched himself before, of course, but he never realized that it would feel so much better having someone else touch him. Wade’s hand felt heavenly as he stroked Peter, twisting his wrist on the upstroke to collect the precome gathering there before the strong, slightly scarred palm slid back down again creating a spectacular sensation of friction.

     Wade had only been touching him for a couple of minutes before he felt his orgasm approach rapidly.

     “Wade, oh my god, I’m...I’m gonna...don’t stop, please don’t stop, I--” was all he managed to get out of his rambling mouth before his balls drew up tight and he was being flung over the edge.

     Wade tried not to blink as to not miss a single second of Peter’s orgasm. His eyes were scrunched closed, eyebrows furrowed, head tilted back and exposing the stretch of his neck where little rosy patches were sprinkled from Wade’s mouth. His breath caught in his throat and his hands gripped almost painfully tight onto Wade’s biceps. The merc glanced down to see how Peter’s come ran over his own scarred fingers and across his bare stomach as Wade tried to milk him through the waves of pleasure without being too rough.

     Peter moaned low and long as he finally got his lungs working again. His whole being twitched like a live wire as Wade’s hand eventually slowed to a stop. Wade kissed him deeply as he gently pulled his hand away.

     Without breaking the kiss, Wade reached over the grab a tissue from the stand. He meticulously cleaned Peter’s skin off before tucking him back into his boxers. He could feel his own erection straining in his sweatpants but he didn’t want to do anything about it as him and Peter lazily kissed over and over again.

     Tossing the tissue somewhere, he laid down next to Peter. He tugged him into being the little spoon as he slotted himself against Peter, being careful not to press his hips against that sexy, little ass.  

     “What about you?” Peter whispered, suddenly very shy again.

     “Don’t worry about me tonight, baby boy,” Wade answered, placing small kisses along Peter’s hairline. “You need to get some rest now.”

     {{Aaaaw, we don’t get to come?}}

_Shut up, this isn’t about us._

     [[You’re no fun.]]

     The two just laid there in a peaceful quiet, listening to the sounds of the other breathing and soaking in the warmth of their limbs tangled together.

     A loud, buzzing sound startled Peter before he realized it was just Wade’s phone on the nightstand. Groaning, Wade leaned up over to check the screen.

     “Uuuugh, I’m not answering that ass-hat’s call, he can wait until morning,” Wade said grumpily, already dropping the phone back down and wrapping his arm back around Peter.

     “Who was it?” he asked gently.

     “Just Stark.”

     “Tony Stark?!”

     “The very same,” Wade replied while nuzzling his face into the back of Peter’s neck.

     “Why would he be calling you?” Peter asked, thinking back to his fight with the billionaire earlier that night.

     “Sometimes him or Rogers have a mission for me. Usually something dumb and boring that they don’t want to do themselves. I do them though because it’s probably the only thing keeping them from running me out of town.”

     “Oh,” Peter replied as he absorbed the information.

     “Don’t worry about it, baby boy, it’s nothing,” Wade said quietly in his ear. Peter could feel sleep drifting over him anyways, so he just wiggled back closer into Wade’s arms. It was too easy to let himself fall into a deep sleep.

     When he woke up, Wade was gone again.


	6. Clashing Heads

     When Peter awoke the next morning, Wade was gone.

     He blinked through the bright rays of sun and inspected the empty side of the bed next to him. Panic and dread had already begun to soak in but right there in the middle of the empty space was a letter on a piece of paper, appearing to have been written in red crayon.

 

_Dear Petey,_

_Had to go do Stark’s dumb quest, but I promise to be back before noon. Please, please, please stay and I promise to make it up to you, baby boy._

_XOXOXOXOXO -Wade_

 

     Peter smiled as he read the note. Underneath was a drawn picture of a circle, half of his mask on one side and half of Wade’s on the other. Little hearts were drawn around it as well. He almost missed it, but under the drawing was a postscript:

   

_P.S. Your suit’s in the dryer. Also, don’t play with Sleepwalker’s Mindscape Sleep Ray-gun taped underneath the kitchen table, it’s super dangerous if you mess up the settings._

     “The what now?” Peter squeaked as his eyebrows shot up.

     Curiosity absolutely got the best of him and he jumped out of the bed to run to the kitchen. He dropped down on the linoleum and true to his word, Wade had scotch-taped what looked to be a dark, solid steel gun with a line of neon-green dials running along the barrel. Leave it to Wade to secure a weapon to a table with scotch tape of all things. He sat on the ground next to the table chuckling softly, still holding the note, and checked the clock.

     “Holy shit,” Peter whispered. It was already a quarter past 11. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in that late, especially with being Spiderman and trying to make enough money for his shitty apartment. He hadn’t felt this well rested in a long time either. Peter immediately blushed at the thought that Wade was probably the cause of that.

     Well, he could kill 45 minutes.

    Peter moved around the apartment, lazily getting dressed back into his jeans. He found the dryer and stuffed his suit back into his bag. He tried watching TV, but there really wasn’t anything to hold his focus. He eventually got off the sofa and just started looking around.

     Deadpool certainly had a lot of weapons, and in every variety. On the coffee table were boxes of bullets and a couple of shurikens between Good Housekeeping magazines. The desk in Wade’s room had a numerous amount of throwing knives, switchblades, serrated knives…really just a bunch of knives. Even the fridge had a couple of grenades in a drawer.

     A bookcase in the living room was stuffed with mainly comics, more weapons, and a random assortment of things that must have enough value to keep around but honestly looked like junk. After a second though, Peter spotted what looked like a picture frame tucked behind a Japanese good fortune, waving cat statue.

     It was a 4 by 6 photo of a man and a woman, standing pressed together and smiling at the camera being held by one of them. The woman in the photo was very beautiful Peter noticed. Her hair was almost black, yet she had a streak of blonde running through it. The wavy locks framed her face perfectly, showcasing her lovely cheekbones, beautifully sloped nose, and perfectly manicured eyebrows. The man next to her was fascinating too. His short, blond hair was buzzed even shorter at the sides. He had a strong jawline speckled with five o’clock shadow and one of his eyebrows had an interesting nicked spot. He was very handsome, and even while he was smiling, his eyes had a certain sense of sadness in them.

     Peter wondered how Wade knew them as he tucked the photo back behind the cat where he found it.

     The sound of a woman giggling very close almost made him jump out of his skin. He heard the stomp of footsteps coming up the stairs and he turned towards the door. Was Wade back already? And who was with him?

     “Oh, darling, you gonna show me a good time, huh?” a breathy, female voice said as the door opened and Wade and a young woman came spilling into the apartment. She was wearing a skin-tight, green and white swirled patterned suit that must have been real difficult to wiggle into. She was clinging her arms around Wade’s neck as the pair slid in and shut the door.

     “Absolutely, baby, you know Deadpool’s a man of his word. A friend of mine mentioned you, and I just _had_ to come and find you,” Wade was saying, pulling the pair of them over near the kitchen and placing her against the table.

     “You know, ever since Arclight told me about that night she spent with you in Singapore, I’ve been dying to get shit-faced and take you for a spin as well,” she purred, rubbing her very large and very on display cleavage against Wade as they stood pressed together.

     “Well thank God for day-drinking and my credit card, am I right?”

     Okay, so, this was really happening. After the initial shock, hurt and jealousy started pouring through Peter’s veins. What the fuck was going on here?

     “Um, excuse me?” he said loud enough to get their attention. They both turned to where Peter had been awkwardly standing across the room and he watched as she raised one eyebrow while she looked him over.

     “And who the fuck is this?” she said.

     Peter was thinking the same thing.

     Wade however, was already talking. “Oh, that’s my cousin’s nephew by marriage, Paul,” he was saying and Peter could feel the what-the-fuck look etching onto his own face. “He’s my roommate, although I’m surprised that he’s not _suited up_ for work by now,” Wade stressed with little head jerks in the woman’s direction while she wasn’t looking. Peter watched how one of Wade's hands behind the woman’s back was pointing down furiously at the tabletop that he had her pressed against.

     _A friend of mine…_

_I just had to find you…_

_The kitchen table…the ray-gun!_

     _Ooooooooooh,_ Peter thought. THIS was Wade’s mission from Tony. He mentally kicked himself for not wearing his Spiderman suit, but how the heck was he supposed to know?

     Trying to keep the recognition off his face and act normal, Peter went with it.

     “Oh, yeah, I uh, actually have the day off, but I was just heading out,” he said, snagging his bag and shoes off the floor, not bothering to put them on as he shuffled past the couple towards the door.

     “That’s right sweetie,” she said as she stroked her hands up and down Wade’s chest, “us grown-ups are about to do some _very_ grown-up things.”

     Resisting the urge to say something incredibly rude, Peter slipped out the door and onto the stairs. He dashed into the alley behind the Chinese restaurant and ripped his suit out of his bag. After he was suited up, he stuck the backpack up high on the brick wall and started swinging his way towards Stark Tower.

     He was fuming as he made his way. Stark was such a hypocrite! He would tell Peter until his face was blue that Deadpool was too dangerous to work with, and yet HE got to send the merc on his errands whenever he felt like it? He was going to demand some answers from Stark when he saw him. He took his time swinging, planning out what he was going to say.

     Eventually, he was entering Stark Tower and riding the elevator up to the 48th floor where Tony kept one of his main robotics and engineering labs. Sure enough, when the door opened to let Peter out of the lift, he spotted Stark sitting at his work-table in a business suit, looking at blueprints on a projected screen. The billionaire spotted Peter and leaned back in his chair.

     “Come to apologize for yesterday?” Tony asked.

     Peter scoffed. “I came to tell you what a hypocrite you are!”

     “Is that so?” he asked, a scowl growing on his face.

     “Apparently Deadpool’s not too threatening to work with because you do it all the time!”

     “Excuse me?”

     “I know that you send him on missions, I even know you have him on one right now! So what, it’s fine as long as he’s being your errand dog but not stopping crime with me?”

     “I know who this man is, Peter, you don’t.”

     Tony’s phone on the table beeped once and he checked it quickly.

     “You really want to know what kind of a man Deadpool is? Why don’t you go check the observation lab at the end of the hall and see for yourself,” Tony said, tipping his head towards the hall on Peter’s left.

     Wearily, Peter turned and made his way down the passageway. There were four different smaller labs off the hall, but the one at the very end was the only one with it’s door open. Peter approached and peeked inside. A dim room was lit up by a wall of screens, showing different camera angles of the lab and close-ups on some of the bigger machines. A long table with two chairs adorned the room with numerous stacks of records and reports on it. Peter stepped inside to get a closer look.

     The door to the lab immediately shut behind him and Peter whipped around. He tried the metal door handle but the door seemed to be sealed shut, no matter how hard he pulled.

     “What the fuck?” he said to himself. “Friday! What’s going on here?!”

     “I’m sorry, Mister Parker,” Friday’s pleasant voice said from the ceiling. “Mister Stark has ordered me to keep you out of his main work station for the duration of Mister Wilson’s visit.”

     “What?! Wade’s here already?! How the hell did he get here so fast?” Peter said as he whipped his head towards the station of video screens. Many separated robotics labs were displayed on the screens, but the one closest to the doorway had a perfect view of Stark standing where Peter had last seen him.

     “Yes, Mister Wilson has been checked in downstairs and should be stepping into the lift now,” Friday supplied helpfully.

     “Friday, you need to let me out of here right now,” Peter said desperately, uncertain of what Stark had planned.

     “I’m sorry, Mister Parker, but I cannot override the door without Mister Stark’s command.”

     “Can you at least give me an audio feed?” Peter pleaded. “Stark didn’t override that too, did he?”

     Friday was silent, and Peter watched on the screen as Tony walked behind his work-table and turned toward the elevator expectantly.

     Peter thought that Friday wasn’t going to help him, but suddenly he very clearly heard the sound of the elevator bell.

     “Alright, Tin Man, front door delivery service,” Peter managed to catch Wade say as he walked into the room and lowered a woman who appeared to be knocked out cold off his shoulder and down onto the ground. “I don’t know what the fuck you needed me to drag Vertigo here for, but she’s your nightmare now.” Through the computer screen, Peter recognized the green suited woman as the one from Wade’s apartment but all he could do was watch the screen. “She can be real handsy too, so watch out when she wakes up.”

     “I’ll take your word for it. An ex-girlfriend perhaps?” Stark asked with a hint of disgust.

     “Not even _my_ healing factor can beat out that many STDs.” Wade gave the still sleeping woman a glance when she started loudly snoring.

     “Now, if that’s all you needed I would like to take my payment and leave now, Robocop. I was actually rather busy when you called so…” Wade began as he stepped over to the table Tony was standing behind.

     “I’d hate to keep you here then,” Stark said as he lifted a small, black suitcase up and placed it on the table. Wade didn’t make a move for it though.

     “What is this?” he said skeptically.

     “Oh this?” Tony said, touching the case. “Let’s call this incentive.”

     “You mean a bribe?” Wade corrected as he placed his hands on his hips.

     Stark huffed out a laugh and nodded his head. “Exactly, Wilson.” He flipped the latch on the case and rows and rows of crisp $100 bills were neatly lined inside.

     “This isn’t just a ‘little bit more’ than usual, Tin Man, there must be a couple mil in there.”

     “10 million in fact.”

     “Uh huh,” Wade replied doubtfully. “And what could you possibly need me to do for 10 million bucks?” He raised an eyebrow at Stark through his mask, but the other man seemed undeniably lax.

     “I actually need you to take this case, take it on _this flight_ ,” he said pulling a plane ticket out of his suit jacket’s inside pocket and placing it on top of the money, “and never come back to New York.”

     Wade scoffed out a laugh.

     “And when you land in Saskatoon across the border, there will be nine more cases just like this one waiting for you.”

     “Woooooooooow,” Wade said, folding his arms across his chest. “I figured that this would be coming sooner rather than later, but I never guessed you’d be so kind to dish out 100 million dollars just to get me out of your hair.”

     “Well like I said, it’s incentive to start a new life over,” Tony said smiling, nudging the case a little closer to Wade on the table. However, the merc just kept his arms crossed as he stepped closer to Tony.

     “Look, Stark, despite what you think, I’m not completely brain dead. This is about Spiderman, isn’t it?” he asked, well aware of the answer. “Don’t fucking stand there and bullshit me.”

     Anger flashed across Tony’s face for a moment before he settled himself. He calmly stepped around the side of the table, meeting Deadpool face to face at the front.

     “Yes,” Stark said sternly.

     “Well, tough. I’m not taking it.”

     “This isn’t really a negotiation, Deadpool,” Stark said, furious now.

     “Oh really?” Wade said casually. “Because to me, it looks like a man trying to control Spiderman’s life by tossing money at ‘so-called’ problems.”

     “I’m the one actually doing what’s best for him,” he sneered.

     “You know you can’t keep him from making his own decisions!” Wade shouted.

     “But I can help him from making all the wrong ones!” Tony yelled right back. “You and I both know that _you_ ,” he said pointing a finger at Wade, “are no good for him. Spiderman has a real chance to be an _Avenger_ one day, but not with you attached to his hip. You’re part of the reason why the newspapers in this town call him a menace, and he will never be accepted with you in the picture. Besides, what do you think he’d ever say if he really knew who you were, huh?”  

     Tony paused, but Wade was silent.

     “Does he even know about your days in the army as a mercenary?” Tony said bitterly. “What about _Weapon-X_ even, how are you planning on explaining that one to him? All those bodies, and the trail leading right back to you, Wilson. You think stopping bank robberies and fist-fights in the street is going to wipe all that blood off your hands, huh?!”

     “Now,” Tony stated as he straightened out his suit jacket, “maybe the money feels like a bit much, no? But why don’t you keep the ticket.” He reached over and tucked the piece of paper into one of Wade’s pouches. “Take the flight, and go before anyone has to get hurt. I don’t know what you were planning on using him for, but forget about the Spiderman entirely before you get him killed.”

     “You know, Stark,” Wade started now that Tony seemed done. “You maybe know all about my past; where I’ve been--the things I’ve done. I’ll even stand here and let you call me the trash that you think I am, but I’m not going to let you think for even one-fucking-second that I would do anything to hurt a single hair on his head, you hear me?” Wade sounded truly pissed now.

     “I don’t want your money.” He slammed the case on the desk shut with one hand.

     “I don’t want your one-way ticket.” He pulled the ticket out and threw it crumpled to Tony’s feet.

     “And I don’t want to look at your arrogant face for a single second longer.” Wade spun on his heels and strode back towards the elevator.

     “You know what the right thing to do is, Deadpool!” Tony tried to yell after him, but Wade just flipped him the bird as the elevator door shut.

     “Let me out, Friday,” Peter said again as he spun around and went back to the door. He tried pulling on the handle but the thing wouldn’t budge. “I said let me out!”

     “Yes, Mister Parker,” Friday complied, right at the same moment Peter gave a particularly hard pull and almost went flying on his ass when the door gave easily.

     He rushed out of the small lab and he saw Stark standing there waiting for him already.

     “Peter, look--”

     “Don’t even talk to me,” Peter grunted as he breezed by Mr. Stark. “I can’t believe you would bribe my friends to actually leave, that’s a new low.” Peter saw Tony’s surprised face when he spun around in the elevator. He was clearly taken aback that Peter had heard him, but the absolute last thing he felt like doing was talking to Stark right now though. What he really wanted to do was sock him one in the face, but he just glared at the man through his mask until the door closed.

     He had to talk to Wade.


	7. You and Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this last chapter took so long, weekends are actually very difficult for me to find time to sit and write. But thanks to everyone that stuck around this long!

     Peter hadn’t been able to spot Wade when he got down to street-level through the throngs of traffic, so he decided that web-slinging would be the quickest. When he got back to Wade’s apartment and pushed the old, wooden door open slowly, he saw that he had beat the merc there. He walked inside and stood in the quiet living room where he thought about what Stark had said.

     Wade _had_ told him about how he had become a mercenary for the military when he had gotten out of high school. However, Peter had never heard of anything by the name of Weapon X before. Even so, he had known Wade wasn’t shy to “un-aliving” someone as he called it, but he also knew that Deadpool had stopped when Spiderman had asked him to. Naturally he had been shocked when Wade had agreed, but with time he realized that maybe Wade had just needed someone to push him. Someone to be there when the boxes got too difficult to deal with. Someone to cool him down when he started getting too hot in a situation. Wade really was trying to be better and Peter had grown more and more in love with the person Wade had turned out to be over the years.

     The sound of the steps creaking signaled Wade’s arrival. When the door opened, Deadpool caught sight of Spiderman standing there and stood frozen in the doorway. Peter reached up and took his mask off silently, finally breaking the silence.

     “Wade…” he started.

     “I’m so sorry, Peter, I was gonna bring her back here to knock her out with the ray-gun but when she started basically _throwing_ herself at me I just thought that it would just make it even easier to get her here although I swear we didn’t actually do anything and then she demanded drinks and I’m talking like a bunch so many I thought she was going to bleed my whole bank account and I was trying to rush her so I wouldn’t be late and--”

     “I know,” Peter interrupted. “I mean, I trust you, plus I’m still trying to figure out how you got to Stark’s Tower so damn fast. It’s not like you could have had time for anything, even you,” Peter smiled as he chuckled.

     “I had Dopinder waiting for me around the block,” Wade said sheepishly, still hit by the fact that Peter trusted him so much. “He learned how to drive in India, so New York is like nothing to him…” he rambled.

     Peter laughed. “Ah, I should have known.”

     “Wait a minute,” Wade said slowly as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “How do you know how long it took me to get to Stark’s?”

     “I was there,” Peter stated, his face suddenly serious. He took a step closer to Wade. “I heard everything you and Stark said.”

     Wade visibly flinched like Peter had slapped him. “How?” he whispered.

     “Actually, believe it or not Mr. Stark sort of trapped me in a room, but I could still see and hear everything.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I just can’t believe that he tried bribing you into staying away from me.”

     Deadpool just dropped his head, staring down. Peter’s heart dropped.

     “You’re actually thinking of leaving,” he whispered, not phrasing it as a question.

     Wade just shook his head though as he continued staring at the ground. “No… but I can’t help but think that despite how much I hate him... he’s still right. You’ll never be anything with me hanging around.”

     “Can you take your mask off please?” Peter asked suddenly.

     Wade looked up, confused. “Why?”

     “Because I want to talk to Wade right now, not Deadpool.” Peter’s face was etched with a determined look and Wade obeyed, although it already felt like his skin was crawling with his nerves.

     “Tell me,” Peter started, voice cracking with emotion. “Tell me that you regret last night. Tell me that you didn’t mean any of those things that you said, and I will go and you’ll never have to see me again.” His tone was stern, like a dare he was giving. It felt like a test.

     Wade stared at the smaller man in front of him. He took in every detail of Peter’s beautiful face; his messy bronze hair, his slightly crooked nose from being broken so many times, his big eyes that were so kind and soft that they made Wade feel weak in his knees every time they looked at him.

     “It would be a lie if I did.”

     Something flashed across Peter’s face and Wade watched as he glanced away at the floor, took a deep breath, and then looked back up. “Let me tell _you_ something then.”

     He closed the distance between them until he was just a foot away from Wade, looking up into his face.

     “I’ll never be anything with you around? Let me tell you about you and me. Even before you pulled that bullet out of my chest I knew I could trust you. When I fall you always catch me, and when you’re at your lowest, I’m there to help pick you back up again. You’re adventurous and sociable when I am timid and shy. When you’re discouraged, I’m optimistic and when I’m sorrowful, you are always so comforting. We both make each other better, don’t you see?” Tears were treacherously welling up in Peter’s eyes, but he didn’t acknowledge them as he continued.

     “So, I’m already on a kick-ass team with the person I love the most in the whole world. Why would I want anything besides that?” he asked, looking at Wade expectantly.

     {{Did he just say…}}

     [[What we think he said?]]

     “Do you really mean that?” Wade asked fearfully. He could feel the way his heart was beating in his chest like a drum, making him feel sick.

     However, a stunning smile spread over Peter's face as he glanced away shyly. “Yes,” he said, his cheeks turning rosy with the confession. He glanced up at Wade through his lashes and added, “Is that okay?”

     “Fuck, that's like an infinity's worth of okay,” Wade said smiling before pulling Peter into a fierce kiss.

     Wade tried to pour his whole heart into their kiss, holding Peter pressed up flush against him. He could feel the warmth of Peter's skin even through both of their suits, but he planned on getting this gorgeous boy stripped naked as soon as possible so he could feast his eyes on every glorious inch of him.

     “I love you too,” Wade whispered when he finally pulled back to breathe. The way that made Peter smile at him was worth all the fucking shit that the universe had ever dumped on him.

     “Hold on tight, spider-monkey,” Wade growled as he grabbed that heavenly ass and lifted Peter up easily.

     He wrapped his legs around Wade's waist, clinging on naturally as he tipped his head back and laughed loudly. “You did not just quote Twilight right now,” Peter accused as Wade took the opportunity to suck a mark on to that beautiful stretch of neck presented to him.

     Wade quickly brought them to his room. He reached down and grabbed into the strong thighs around him, spreading Peter's legs so that he ended up straddling Wade's lap as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

     He pulled back to take a look at the boy perched in his lap. Peter was breathing a little quickly, his eyes half-lidded as he stared into Wade's eyes. His arms were holding onto Wade's shoulders where one of his hands were rubbing gently on the back of his neck.

     “Well, you knew what it was from, so I'm gonna clock you as a secret Twilight fan too, sweetums,” Wade said as he watched his own hands rub up and down the spandex-clad thighs that he had admired for _years_.

     Peter's eyes crinkled as he smiled, wiggling slightly in Wade's lap. “Seeing the movie once doesn't make me a fan.”

     “What, you don't want to be the Bella to my Edward? Because, baby boy, I could just eat you up right now.” Wade was getting harder by the second with the way Peter was wiggling, and he knew that more clothing had to go, like _yesterday_.

     His hands went to work swiftly and as soon as Peter's top was properly thrown off to the other side of the room, Wade was kissing him deeply. However just after a moment, Peter pulled back to speak softly.

     “I want you to take yours off too.”

     Instant panic filled Wade's heart. His face was bad enough, but his _whole_ _body_ was covered in these disgusting scars from the cancer. Peter must have noticed his fear though because he placed his hands on Wade's face to make him look into his eyes.

     “l promise, Wade, it's okay.”

     When he didn't respond, Peter came up with an idea.

     “What if…” he started as he stood up off Wade's lap and moved towards the one large window over the merc's bed. Although the sun was beginning to cast long, draping shadows, the light was still strong from the cloudless day. He reached up and tugged down the heavy, dark curtain and soon the room was dim and shadowy. Not truly _dark_ , but like a warm cocoon.

     He walked back to Wade, and gently sat back onto his lap. Wade was breathing a little fast and Peter could easily see the worry etching into his face.

     “Now,” Peter said, resting his forehead against Wade's, “it's just the two of us.” Peter smiled like it was the easiest answer in the world.

     Wade was speechless, so he simply nodded and watched astounded as Peter's deft fingers began undoing the straps and zippers on his suit. The depths of the younger man's heart continued to surprise Wade every single day. Then the leather was deposited on the ground as well and Wade waited with bated breath.

     “Jesus, Wade, you're just so _big_ ,” Peter said as his warm hands ran over those defined pecs and squeezed those biceps that he could barely wrap both hands around the circumference.

     Fiercely, Wade wrapped his arms around Peter's back, pulling him flush against him where he could feel Peter's heart beating rabbit-fast against his own chest. The sensation of his smooth, hot skin against his was better than he could have ever imagined.

     Peter actually seemed to be enjoying it as Wade massaged his hands strongly up the plane of his back. He was moaning and sneaking kisses to Wade between breaths and Wade figured he must have died for real and gone to heaven. He flipped Peter down onto the sheets, cherishing the sight of the boy in his bed again possessively.

     {{He's absolutely perfect.}}

     [[A true masterpiece,]] the boxes waxed poetically.

     Peter's beautifully strong torso was chiseled into these gorgeous muscles despite his slight frame. His skin was dusted golden from the sun in places that faded into stunning, pale ivory where his clothes usually rested. Wade greedily drank in the sight, letting his eyes follow the furrow of muscles on his hips down to where they snuck into the bottom of his suit.

     “You are so fucking sexy, Jesus, you don't even know,” Wade rambled as he ran his hands down Peter's sides to grab onto the waistband of his pants.

     “You too,” Peter replied, which twisted Wade's heart up, but in a shockingly nice way.

     [[Where did this kid even come from tho?]]

     {{Straight from heaven,}} Yellow sighed dreamily.

     With a strong tug, Wade pulled Peter's suit and underwear down over that bubble-butt and thighs. Peter gasped and blushed hard as Wade pulled the last of the fabric off his lean legs and left him spread completely nude on Wade's bed.

     Peter felt so exposed and his heart was pounding like mad against his rib cage. The way the older man was staring at him though, raking over his chest and nipples before trailing down to where his flushed cock was laying on his abs…Peter had never had anyone look at him like he was something breathtaking.

     “Goddammit, Peter, just let us look at you for a second. Yes, he is perfect, fuuuck.”

     Hearing Wade talk to his boxes made Peter blush even further. At least they seemed to like the view as well.

     Embarrassed by Wade's words, he reached up to grab his face and pull him down into another needy kiss. Wade went happily, already addicted to the way Peter’s mouth felt against his. His hands were gently running across Wade’s shoulders, his arms, his neck-- anywhere that he could reach with Wade pinning him down into the soft sheets. Having someone actually touch him like that was a little frightening for Wade, but Peter was touching him like he was desperate to explore, and _that_ was amazing.

     Wade had a plan though, so finally he pulled back enough to start laying a trail of varying kisses down Peter’s neck. He could see on his skin how pink he had gotten while Wade had undressed him, so he bit, licked and sucked his way down Peter's torso straight towards his cock in hopes to see that blush darken further.

     When he got to his destination, Wade couldn't help but show off, just a little. He put every trick and tip in the book to use as he worked his mouth over Peter's hard length. He would take his time teasing the head, flicking his tongue along the frenulum rapidly, his lips massaging wetly around the ridge before he would sink down fast, sucking hard as he took all of Peter down to the root.

     And Peter was a quivering mess above him. Wade treasured every shaky gasp, wanton moan, and breathy plea for Wade to _please_ not stop. He eventually had to pin Peter down with one forearm across his hips. He was determined to show Peter that he was in charge here, and that he was going to pull every ounce of pleasure out of him as humanly possible.

     Using his free hand, Wade rolled Peter's testicles as he began to rhythmically bob his head at a wonderful pace that had Peter panting heavily. Wade could taste the sharp, sticky precome with every swipe of his tongue at Peter's slit. He figured he must be getting close.

     Looking up, Wade took in the sight of a disheveled Peter. He was watching Wade’s mouth move along him, his own mouth hanging open as he gasped, eyebrows scrunching together at the overwhelming sensation. One of his hands were death-gripping the bed sheets while the other was behind his head, fingers tangled tightly in the short hairs there.

     Wade gave a cheeky wink before taking all of Peter's cock back down into his throat, thankful as fuck right now for his lack of gag reflex. He let one finger sneak down to tap gently at Peter's tight, little hole as he swallowed around the tip of his cock.

     “Ah fuck!” Peter gasped, his eyes rolling back and head tipping back into the pillow. His abs were twitching with the effort not to move and Wade could feel how his thighs shook. When Peter spoke again, his voice was raspy and suddenly shy.

     “Uhn, oh shit, Wade, I'm r-really close,” he warned as he glanced back down at the merc. Looking again certainly made it worse though as his cock throbbed between Wade's lips and against his silky tongue.

     “Like really, really close,” he panicked. Wade made no effort to pull off though, making sure to work his throat twice as hard.

     Peter came hard down Wade's throat and he strove to swallow every pulse of hot liquid as it filled his throat and mouth. Peter whimpered sweetly as Wade keep milking him through it deep in his throat. Shockingly, Peter wasn't getting even a little bit soft and soon Wade was forced to pull off with a filthy ‘pop’ when he finally needed air.

     “Damn, Spidey, you trying to drown a man or what?” Wade teased and Peter actually giggled as he laid loose-limbed on the bed.

     “Oh no,” Wade smirked with a predatory look as he crawled up Peter's body. “Don't tell me you're one of those people that get all giggly after they come.”

     “No!” Peter defended scandalously, though he was still absolutely giggling.

     {{Mmmhmmm.}}

     [[Guilty as charged.]]

     “Christ, you never even got soft, baby boy,” Wade said reverently as he wrapped one hand around Peter's still wet cock. The younger man shook from the over-stimulation but melted back into the sheets as it quickly started feeling good again.

     “It happens sometimes,” he said quietly, tipping his face way timidly. “Ever since the spider bite, sometimes it just… takes a couple of times…”

     {{Thank you Santa! Best Christmas EVER!}}

     [[It's May.]]

     “Don't you worry, sweetheart. I will _happily_ take care of that,” Wade rasped out.  

     Peter's hands however were already working Wade's pants off as well. “I just need to feel all of you, please, Wade,” he moaned. The pretty way he begged was straight out of Wade's best wet dreams.

     “Shit, Spidey. Okay, okay, baby boy, hold on,” Wade said as he stripped as fast as he could without flopping off the bed like an idiot.

     When he managed to crawl back between Peter's legs, Wade's cock was painfully hard and leaking already. He reached to the nightstand to grab his almost empty bottle of lube out of the drawer. As he squirted some into his palm to warm up, he let his hips press against Peter's, where he happily wrapped his legs around Wade's hips.

     Both men moaned at the sensation and Wade couldn't wait a second longer. Leaning down to kiss Peter, he gripped both of their cocks together in a tight grip with his slicked fist. He started pumping them fast as he tried not to roll his hips too much into the wonderful sensation.

     Peter’s eyes flew open, gasping the air between them at the new feeling. He could feel the way that Wade’s cock rubbed up against his in the tight channel of the older man’s hand. The scars did indeed cover everywhere because Peter could even feel the slight textured skin as he moved and it was distinctly wonderful. This felt more intimate than anything else that Peter had ever done, but he also felt so incredibly safe with Wade wrapped around him, above him, blocking out the rest of the world and just taking care of him.

     Peter didn’t have a chance to warn Wade as his orgasm hit because he had his lips locked to Peter’s. He just moaned through their kiss, twitching as Wade’s fist got even wetter as he came. He finally started to grow soft and Wade let go of the both of them to give Peter a break. The younger man however hadn’t forgotten about Wade and found control of his limbs again through the waves of pleasure.

     When Peter wrapped his delicate yet calloused palm around Wade's slick cock, the primal urge to fuck into that amazing tightness had Wade moving his hips aggressively. With a dozen more thrusts, he was coming hard across Peter's already wet stomach. The aftershocks of his orgasm seemed to last forever and he nuzzled his face into the side of Peter's to breathe in the soothing scent of his skin.

     When he finally caught his breath, he leaned down to lap up their combined come off of Peter's skin underneath him. Peter chuckled at the ticklish feeling of Wade's tongue.

     “Oh God, Wade. You are insatiable,” he said smiling.

     When Wade was done tasting every last drop, he flopped down in his side, pulling Peter with him. Just the sound of their breath slowing down filled the room for so long that Wade thought that Peter had nodded off. However, Wade was wrong as Peter wriggled against his side lazily.

     He lifted his head slightly off Wade's chest, tilting his head up to kiss him sweetly before pulling back. “I love you, Wade Wilson, and I'm not giving up on Team Spideypool.”

     Wade laughed deeply, pulling Peter back into another loving kiss. “I love _you_ Peter Parker, and you better not because I already spent a fortune making merch for our franchise.”

     The pair chuckled softly in the growing dark. They settled into an easy rest, Peter falling asleep quickly on Wade's chest as the older man held him close. Sleep came slower to Wade, who listened to the boxes tell him over and over not to fuck this up. He determined that he'd do anything to keep the web-slinger safe and happy. Eventually, he too fell asleep.

     Neither of them had seen the tiny beetle high up on the wall of Wade's bedroom. The beetle’s pinpoint, camera eyes directed it's feed back towards Stark Tower where Tony Stark himself sat in his now dim office in front of a dark screen.

     This was way worse than he had thought.

 

     ~THE END~


End file.
